Tales of the Tug Fork Valley
by appalachianwriter
Summary: A collection of one-shots that are McCoy friendly. More info inside.
1. Info

_**Information/Summary: **_

Basically a bunch of one-shots centered around Tolbert and Bud.

! MOST EVENTS ARE FICTITIOUS !

! NOT HISTORICALLY ACCURATE WITH MOST THINGS !

I did create a birthday for Bud, as all that is known is that he was born in 1864. I have no proof that the two McCoy brothers were this close, and in the miniseries, it seems that they had Tolbert and Pharmer closer than Tolbert and Bud. I've also read that Bud and his younger brother William "Bill" were extremely close, so I'll probably add him in at some point. Above that, I have done research on the times, but I'm sure some things are wrong. Please forgive those. Other than that, I hope you enjoy these little stories I come up with!

These will also be posted on my Wattpad: MountainWriter.

~ Slow Updates ~


	2. You're my Favorite

**_June 1864_**

Tolbert looked up at his mother, who held Pharmer in her arms.

"Mama? You gonna have 'nother baby?" Tolbert asked, leaning against his mother's side.

"Yes I am, Tolbert," Sally nodded slightly.

"But Mama, y' jus' had Pharmer last year!"

"An' I had _you_ ten years ago," Sally smiled, using her free hand to caress her son's face. "Lord only knows what I'd do without ya."

Tolbert giggled and curled up against his mother, his hand clenching the fabric of Sally's dress.

"Is it gonna be a boy or a girl?"

"Well, I don't rightly know, Tolbert." Sally began to play with Tolbert's ginger curls absentmindedly.

"Why don't ya know?" Tolbert looked up at Sally, his brows furrowed and lips pursed.

"Well, the baby ain't here yet. We ain't gonna be able t' know 'til the baby's born."

"Oh... when will that be?"

"October. Prob'ly late October."

"That long?" Tolbert's face morphed into an upset expression.

"Yeah, Tolbert," Sally chuckled. "That long. Now, why don't ya go t' bed, like ya promised ya would?"

"Mkay. Love ya, Mama."

"Love ya too, hun."

* * *

**_October 1864_**

Tolbert peeked over the corner of the blanket that surrounded the bundle in his mother's arms, seeing a small baby. Tolbert's eyes flicked up to Sally, who smiled at Tolbert as he invited him to sit beside her.

"So... 's it a boy or girl?" Tolbert asked.

"Boy."

"What's his name?"

"Randolph Junior."

"After Poppy?" Tolbert hesitantly reached out toward the baby.

"Yeah. After your Poppy." Sally watched him for a few seconds before adding, "Ya can touch him. Gently."

Tolbert gently touched the infant's cheek, marveling at how soft the baby's skin was.

"How we gonna know if you're talkin' t' him or Poppy?" Tolbert asked while gently rubbing his cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"We'll call him Bud. Jus' like you sometimes go by Tol, he'll go by Bud. Like Jim's name is really James, and Rose is Roseanna."

"Oh," Tolbert muttered. "So... Bud's his name then?"

"Yes," Sally chuckled. "Bud's his name."

* * *

**_September 1866_**

"Here, I got 'im." Tolbert took Bud and placed him on his hip.

"Thank ya, darlin'."

Tolbert bounced his baby brother, earning giggles and babbling from him. Tolbert laughed as well, blue eyes alight with mirth.

Sally had told Tolbert that Bud reminded her of him when he was a baby. She said that they looked nearly identical and that it probably meant the two would look similar when he grew older. Tolbert thought about it and decided he wouldn't mind it very much if his baby brother looked like him.

Unfortunately, the women of the church remembered what Tolbert looked like as an infant as well, and assumed that Bud would be just like him — hot-headed and rude. Or that was their opinion of Tolbert, anyway.

And Tolbert hadn't meant to listen to their conversation. He had been walking around with Bud on his hip, listening to the boy excitedly babble and dodging the boy's chubby finger when he went to point at something. (He had been poked one too many times in the eye because Bud was pointing at something.)

"That boy hasn't got a chance."

"I know it. Not only does he have Tolbert as a brother, but he looks _just like him!_ He'll probably be just as hot-headed and as rude as Tolbert is."

"Ain't that the truth!" The lady dressed in the blue dress smoothed her skirts before continuing, "I'll bet Lil Ran'l will end up just like that brother of his. You mark my words, this disagreement between the Hatfields and the McCoys is only gonna get worse, and that boy is gonna be the cause of it!"

Tolbert flinched at the words. As far as he knew, he wasn't rude. His Poppy and his Mama had both told him if he ever felt like he'd lash out at someone to keep his mouth shut. "It'll cause you a lot less trouble," he'd been told.

"And do you think Sally will keep lettin' Bud around him?"

"Well, he _is_ his older brother. She can't do much."

"I know I would! I wouldn't let him anywhere near him. If Sally has any sense at all, she'll keep Lil Ran'l away from Tolbert. Mark my words, that boy's gonna end up gettin' hurt by the one he adores."

* * *

Tolbert had been avoiding Bud for almost a week. Sally had noticed, and she had tried almost everything to get him to stop.

The problem was that Tolbert was already an older sibling. He had Alifair, Roseanna, Calvin, and Pharmer before Bud came along, and he'd screamed at them several times, scared them out of their wits and caused them to fall and hurt themselves. He didn't want to do that with Bud, especially after hearing what the women in church said about him.

"Tolbert, watch Bud for me while I go see what it is Mrs. White wanted," Sally said. Tolbert only nodded, not daring to tell his mother no. "I'll be back soon, darlin'. You'll be _fine._"

* * *

Tolbert was not fine. Bud had climbed onto his lap and fallen asleep, his cheek pressed against Tolbert's chest. Tolbert was afraid that he'd hurt him, that if he even touched Bud, he would somehow hurt him. That was the last thing he wanted to do, and despite the fact that Bud had one of Tolbert's hands in his grasp, Tolbert did his very best not to touch him.

Bud's hair fell down on his face, obscuring his eyes from view. Tolbert cautiously brushed the brunette locks back, seeing that Bud was still sleeping. He began to snore softly, and his grip slightly tightened on Tolbert's hand.

Sally returned, a small frown forming on her face when she saw how tense Tolbert was. She walked over to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Can I talk t' ya?"

Tolbert slowly nodded, seeing as Bud was sleeping and he couldn't exactly go anywhere. He could see Jim out of the corner of his eye, pausing hesitantly by the staircase.

"Jim, put Bud t' bed for me, won't ya?"

Sally could see the way Tolbert almost protested, the way he almost draped an arm over Bud, the way he _almost_ said no. Jim took the sleeping boy and carried him to their room upstairs.

Tolbert's mind began to race as he looked down at the floor. What if their mother was going to start separating them? What if the women at the church were right? What if—

"Tolbert, darlin', look at me," Sally ordered softly, crouching down in front of her twelve-year-old son. Tolbert lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting Sally's. "What's wrong with ya?"

"Nothin', Mama," he mumbled.

"Tolbert." She gave him a worried look. "I know you better than that."

Tolbert shifted uncomfortably, playing with a loose string on his brown shirt.

"Nothin's wrong," he insisted, gaze lowered once again.

"Tolbert, I know somethin's wrong. Ya wouldn't be avoiding Bud like your life depends on it if there wasn't."

"I don't wanna hurt him."

Sally sighed, a single hand resting on Tolbert's shoulder.

"Ya ain't gonna hurt him."

"I've already hurt th' others! I've scared 'em so bad they jus' fell an' hurt themselves! I don't want Bud gettin' hurt 'cause of me."

"Tolbert—"

"An' — an' I'd be a bad influence for 'im anyways."

"Tolbert McCoy, where'd you get an idea like that?" Sally asked incredulously, eyes widened in shock.

"From the ladies at church," he sniffed, wiping his eyes to clear his bleary vision. "I didn't mean t' listen t' their conversation! They were jus' talkin' s' loud I heard 'em."

"Ya listen t' me, Tolbert. They're wrong, alright? Whatever else they said is wrong, understand me?"

Tolbert nodded as a few tears slipped down his face.

"They said Bud's gonna end up like me... rude an' hot-headed. I'm _tryin',_ Mama. I'm tryin' my best t' control m' temper an' it ain't workin'. I do like you an' Poppy told me, not t' say anythin' when I think I'm gonna get mad, an' they jus' call me rude."

"They don't understand ya, darlin'. N even though you're twelve, ya don't fully understand it neither. Maybe ya never will, I don't know, but let me tell ya, that little boy that you've been avoidin' all week? He loves ya, Tolbert. Don't push him 'way 'cause of what them gossipin' busybodies say. C'mere."

Tolbert slid to the floor, Sally pulling him into her arms. She pulled her fingers through his ginger curls, paying no mind to his sniffling as he cried silently.

"I don't wanna hurt anybody," Tolbert sobbed, covering his face with his hands.

"An' ya won't. Not intentionally. Honey, ya should see how many times Bud's run straight int' that wall over there. He knocks himself down and gets right back up again. Pharmer's done the same thing. So has Alifair and Roseanna, an' Calvin used t' try t' climb the stairs on his own an' ended up fallin' backwards. Gettin' hurt is a part of life, darlin'. At some point, it ain't gonna be a wall or the staircase that hurts 'em. It's gonna be a real person. I'm not sayin' it's you, but Tolbert, there's people out there with the intention t' hurt people for no reason other than they want to. I know ya. You're hot-headed, but ya've been tryin' real hard t' keep your temper in check. I haven't seen ya mad once this week."

"Been too scared t' be mad," Tolbert mumbled, wiping his face free of tears.

"Well... at least ya found a way t' keep your temper in check," Sally jested, earning a quiet giggle from Tolbert. "But don't let what them busybodies say stop ya from gettin' 'round your brother. Even if he does end up bein' hot-headed like you, he'll still be a good person. Know why? _You_ are a good person," Sally gently poked Tolbert's chest.

Tolbert laid his head on Sally's shoulder, staring ahead at the window, trying to believe what his mother was telling him. If he was such a good person, why did the women at church always try to avoid him? Tolbert hadn't done anything to them (at least he didn't remember doing anything to them) but they still avoided him as though he was the devil himself.

"Why does everyone avoid me?" Tolbert asked softly, picking at his nails.

"B'cause they don't understand ya. All they see is your temper... they only look for the bad in ya. They don't care t' get t' know ya t' see the good. An' believe me, Tolbert, the good outweighs the bad."

"Ya sure?"

"Yeah, hun. I'm sure."

There was a beat of silence.

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"'Re you gonna keep Bud 'way from me?"

"No. I'd never keep Bud 'way from ya, Tolbert. Well, I would if ya were sick, but ya ain't so I ain't keepin' him 'way from ya."

"Mkay. Love ya, Mama."

"Love ya too, Tolbert."

* * *

Tolbert held onto Bud's small, chubby hand as they walked around, listening to his baby brother jabber about something he found interesting across the street.

"'S right, Tol'ert?" Bud peered up at him, hazel-green eyes shining happily.

"Yeah. Yeah, 's right."

Bud stopped walking, causing Tolbert to stop as well. He tugged on the hem of Tolbert's coat.

"Up!"

Tolbert sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes, earning a fit of giggles from Bud as he bent down to pick him up. He placed Bud on his hip, Bud throwing his arms around Tolbert's neck.

"Happy now?" Tolbert asked, brushing Bud's hair off of his face. Bud nodded before tucking his head in the crook of Tolbert's neck. Tolbert smiled in amusement, shaking his head slightly as he continued to walk around.

Despite knowing that the women weren't far away from him, Tolbert found that he didn't care as much as he thought he would. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, and Tolbert could hardly hear a word they were saying. He didn't mind it, though. It just meant he didn't have to worry about if they were talking about him or not.

"Can you believe that Sally's trusted him with Bud again?"

"I know it! It seems that every Sunday, that wretched little boy has that innocent child."

If Tolbert hadn't been focused on the squirming toddler in his arms, he might've actually paid attention to what they were saying.

"Down! Down!"

"Alright, quit yer squirmin'! I can't set ya down if ya don't quit squirmin'."

Bud (surprisingly) did as he was told, taking off the second his feet touched the ground. Tolbert followed behind him, keeping an eye on him to ensure he didn't fall.

"Tol'ert! Tol'ert, I want up!"

Tolbert turned toward Pharmer, who had somehow found his way over to him, and picked the four-year-old up.

"Bud!" He pointed at the boy, who had stumbled toward the ladies.

"C'mon, let's go get 'im."

Tolbert rushed over to Bud, barely catching him by the collar of his coat and pulling him back.

"Let's not bother them, a'ight?"

"Did Sally trust him with Pharmer too? My Lord, she's just askin' for trouble!"

Tolbert sighed as he bent down and lifted Bud, placing him on his other hip. He forced a small smile and nodded toward the ladies before turning on his heel, heading back to the cart his father stood by.

* * *

**_August 1868_**

Bud, at three years of age, was an energetic child that never left Tolbert's side. He could walk and run wherever he pleased, and he never let Tolbert go anywhere alone if he could help it.

"I ain't doin' nothin'," Tolbert laughed, trying to get the three-year-old to release his leg. "I jus' wanna take a walk."

"Can I go?" Bud peered up at him. Tolbert sighed, looking down at the boy.

"Reckon it's alright. Go tell Mama we're goin' out for a while," he ordered softly.

"Mkay, Tol'ert." Bud happily trotted off to tell Sally they were going out, causing Tolbert to chuckle. That boy was something else. He never bugged any of the others nearly as much as he did Tolbert when Tolbert wanted to go do something. It was like he and Tolbert were inseparable, and Tolbert knew that he was probably setting the boy up for disappointment by allowing him to go with him everywhere. Bud would have to go to school eventually.

He came back, looking up at Tolbert and saying, "Mama wants ya."

Tolbert lifted the boy and put him over his shoulder, earning shrill laughter as he went into the kitchen to find his mother.

"Where ya takin' him now?" Sally asked.

"Jus' goin' for a walk. Might end up pickin' some berries, since blackberries should be ripe by now. Ya know I can't go anywhere without 'im. He won't let me."

"Alright. Be back before supper, ya hear? I know how ya are." Sally pointed an accusing finger at him. "Before supper," she repeated.

"A'ight, Mama. Be back before supper," Tolbert nodded.

* * *

"Tol'ert, look!"

Bud pointed at a rabbit that wasn't too far ahead of them.

"What?" Tolbert looked up from the blackberry bush, pricking his finger on a thorn. He yelped and jerked his hand back, spotting the rabbit before it skittered away. "Dagon it!"

"Y' a'ight, Tol'ert?"

"Yeah, Buddy. 'M fine," Tolbert smiled at the three-year-old.

He looked at Tolbert strangely.

"M' name's not Buddy."

"'S a nickname. It's jus' another name t' call ya. Don't mean a thing except ya got three names ya go by now," Tolbert explained, ruffling the boy's hair. "Now c'mon, let's get home b'fore Mama has our heads."

* * *

**_September 1868_**

Tolbert watched Bud as he ran around the front of their Uncle Harmon's old place. They'd stopped to rest — well, Tolbert had — and he'd agreed to let Bud run around so long as he stayed close.

"Tol'ert! Tol'ert, 'm scared!" Bud cried when he heard a coyote howl. While he started running in what he thought was Tolbert's direction, he had his head turned and wasn't watching where he was going. Tolbert realized what was going to happen and stood up.

"Bud! Watch where yer goin'!" Tolbert screeched. Bud turned his head but he didn't stop running. He ran smack into a tree, knocking himself down onto his back with a grunt.

Tolbert couldn't help it; he burst into laughter and walked over to him, picking the boy up off of the ground.

"Y' a'ight?" Tolbert asked between spurts of laughter. Bud nodded, his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. "Aw, don't be mad. It was real funny, Bud."

Bud started to wail, which Tolbert had expected, seeing as there was no possible way the boy couldn't have hurt himself with the way he smacked the tree. Tolbert would have sworn Bud's head bounced off of it.

"Hey, hey, you're okay," Tolbert cooed, holding the wailing Bud close to him. Bud had his face pressed against Tolbert's shoulder, tears streaming down his face and landing on Tolbert's shirt. "'S okay. We're gonna go home now, 's alright. Don't cry, Buddy."

Tolbert walked back to their Uncle Harmon's cabin, kicking the stool inside and closing the door. Bud had tucked his head in the crook of Tolbert's neck, his wails now quiet whimpers. Tolbert was starting to wonder if it was more the shock of it or the fact he might've actually hurt himself that made him cry. He'd feel horrible if his brother had actually hurt himself, seeing as he'd laughed at him before asking if he was alright.

"We'll go home now, a'ight?"

"A'ight."

* * *

Bud had fallen asleep on the walk home, arms thrown over Tolbert's shoulders while his face was still pressed against Tolbert's neck.

Tolbert felt a rush of relief when he neared their home, seeing their father sitting on the porch in his rocker.

"Where've you been?" he asked, not bothering to move from his seat.

"Out at Uncle Harmon's old place. Took him out for a walk up near there an' stopped on the way back. Bud ran smack into a tree after he heard a coyote howlin'. Don't know if he hurt himself or not, but it was funny."

Ran'l chuckled, shaking his head.

"Best go let yer Mama look him over. Jus' don't tell her that your brother runnin' into a tree was funny. She'll smack your head."

"Alright, Poppy."

* * *

**_December 1869_**

"Tol'ert, I don't feel good," Bud groaned, shuffling into (what was now) Tolbert's room.

Tolbert, who hadn't yet gotten up, was surprised that Bud was up at such an early hour. Bud usually slept until he was awakened, and even then he sat at the table half-asleep.

"C'mere, Buddy," Tolbert murmured.

Bud climbed up on the bed, lying down beside Tolbert and curling up beside him. Tolbert covered the boy with his blanket before gently pressing the back of his hand to Bud's forehead.

"My God, Bud," Tolbert breathed. "You're burnin' up."

"Don't go nowheres," the boy pleaded. "I don't wanna be 'lone."

"It'd be best if I got Mama. You're too warm, Bud."

"Mkay. Promise t' come back?"

"Yeah, Buddy," Tolbert nodded while brushing the boy's hair back. "I promise."

He rushed downstairs, explaining the situation to Sally, who had just taken a pot of coffee off of the stove. She set it down, following Tolbert back to the room, where Bud laid on the bed. His face was red, his skin hot and clammy, and the boy just looked miserable.

"Tolbert, let me talk t' ya out here a minute."

"Be right back, Buddy," Tolbert assured him when he saw the look on the boy's face. He followed their mother out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"I need ya t' go fetch Doc Rutherford. Ya tell him your baby brother might have the fever, ya understand?" Sally spoke in a hushed tone.

"Yeah, Mama."

* * *

Bud had been inconsolable when Sally came into the room again and Tolbert had not. That lasted until Tolbert came back, running into the room with Doc Rutherford behind him. He kicked off his boots and took off his coat, tossing it on the chair before Bud tugged on his sleeve.

"What?" Tolbert breathed.

"You didn' come back," Bud sniffled.

"Yes, I did. Mama told me go fetch Doc Rutherford. Yer alright, Buddy. I'm right here. Now ya do what he tells ya, ya hear?"

Bud nodded while Tolbert wiped the tears off of his face.

The examination had been quick and to the point. And when Tolbert had helped Bud remove his shirt, checking for the rash that came with scarlet fever, and he was more than relieved to find that there was none.

"It's just a normal fever, Miss Sally. There's nothin' I can do right now. If he gets any worse, send for me again."

Sally nodded as the man left, walking behind him to show him out.

Tolbert picked Bud up, as the boy had crawled over to him and murmured the word, "Up." He held him close, sitting down on the bed and rubbing the boy's back gently. He whined, his face pressed against Tolbert's chest.

"'M cold," Bud mumbled, shivering. Tolbert grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around him. Bud hummed when Tolbert started to play with his hair. The boy didn't argue, didn't complain while Tolbert pulled his fingers through his thick, sweaty locks of brunette hair.

"Ya sleepy?" Tolbert asked amusedly, watching Bud yawn.

"No," Bud grumbled, fighting to stay awake. "'M not s'eepy."

"Yes, you are," Tolbert chuckled. "It's alright if ya go back t' sleep. Y' want t' lay down?"

"No. Then yer gonna leave me 'gain."

"Here..." Tolbert set Bud behind him and scooted back, leaning against the headboard. Bud sat on his lap, putting his head on Tolbert's chest, just like he had a moment before. "Better?"

"Mhm."

Tolbert watched the boy as he slowly nodded off, despite fighting to stay awake. Tolbert pulled his fingers through Bud's hair, listening to the boy as he hummed contentedly, his eyes fluttering closed.

* * *

Bud's fever was steadily getting worse. Tolbert would have sworn it was the fever, except Bud really had no other sign that he had contracted the fever. He still slept in Tolbert's room, as the younger boys and Jim slept in the other, and it would have been horrible for Calvin and Pharmer to catch whatever Bud had.

"He any better?" Sally asked as Tolbert came downstairs, preparing to head outside to do his chores and Bud's, just as he had been doing the last three days.

"No," he sighed, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "I swear, Mama, he's delirious. Sure he ain't got one of them fevers?"

"He ain't got the signs of any of them other fevers," Sally reminded him. "He's just poorly. He'll be fine in a day or two."

"Y' sure?" Tolbert questioned, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I'm sure," Sally nodded with a certainty that almost concerned Tolbert. He still had his doubts, as he was the one that was with Bud more often than not, but he decided he would trust what his mother said. "Quicker you git all your chores done, quicker you can be with Bud again.

Tolbert laughed breathlessly, setting the empty mug down on the counter.

"An' darlin'?"

"Yeah?"

"I need some firewood. Would ya care t' fetch some for me?"

"Sure, Mama," he chuckled. "I'll be right back with it."

* * *

Tolbert wasn't surprised to find Bud sleeping when he entered the room again. It was all the five-year-old seemed to do lately, and Tolbert wished he'd hurry and get well. He missed the energetic five-year-old boy who rambled excitedly about anything and everything. Now all he did was sleep, and when he was awake, Tolbert couldn't get him to eat more than a few bites.

Now, seeing beads of sweat lining the boy's forehead and brow, Tolbert wondered if the fever was finally going to break. He and Sally had been trying to get it to break for the last three days but to no avail.

Taking the cold cloth in his hands, he placed it on Bud's forehead before leaving the boy alone, allowing him to sleep peacefully.

* * *

"Tolbert, 's cold in here," Bud complained while poking Tolbert's cheek. "_Tolbert._"

"'M up. Wha's wrong?" He rubbed his eyes before turning to where he could see Bud.

"'S _cold,_" he repeated.

Tolbert's brows furrowed. It was odd for the boy to say it was cold. He usually complained about it being too hot when it wasn't hot at all. He pressed his hand to Bud's forehead, relief crashing on him in waves.

"Oh, thank God," he whispered. "I'll get the spare blanket, a'ight? An' we'll put a shirt on ya."

"Mkay. Thank ya, Tol."

"Ya welcome, Buddy."

* * *

Tolbert couldn't help but laugh at Bud as he raced down the stairs the next morning (in one of Tolbert's shirts) to inform their mother and father that his fever had broken. It was the first time that week Bud had joined them for breakfast, and the first time he'd eaten a full meal in four days.

Tolbert had agreed to keep Bud by his side for the day, just to ensure he still wasn't sick. They headed to the barn, since Tolbert had to tend to the horses and fix the wheel to the cart. If they wanted to go to the Christmas service, Tolbert had to get it fixed before the day was over.

"Do me a favor, will ya?"

Bud looked up, startled.

"Go over there in that corner an' get that rope for me," Tolbert ordered softly. Bud nodded and did as he was told, trotting toward the corner Tolbert had pointed to. Tolbert had laughed and had quickly gone back to tending the horses.

"Whatcha need it for?" Bud asked as he slowly made his way back, dragging the rope alongside him.

"Well, I've gots t' find me a way t' get that busted wheel off the cart. Since we ain't got no crates 'round here, I'm gonna have t' tie it up an' hope the rope don't snap."

"Oh. Can I help?"

"If ya want to. You can help me fix the wheel, alright? I don't want ya near the cart in case the rope does snap."

"Okay."

* * *

**_April 1872_**

Bud raced toward the house, trying to get out of the pouring rain. His foot hit a slick patch of grass, sending him flying into a patch of mud. He cried out, landing on the ground with a grunt. He managed to twist to where he landed on his shoulder, which was admittedly better than his face.

"_Bud! _Ya better git in here!" Tolbert shouted from the door.

Bud was thankful that he'd fallen in a spot where no one could see him, and swiftly climbed to his feet, rushing toward the house a little more cautiously than he had before. Tolbert was leaning against the doorway, his brows raising when he saw Bud.

"Take a fall?" he guessed, ushering the boy inside.

"Uh-huh. M' foot slid on grass," Bud answered, looking up at Tolbert.

"Go change. We don't want ya catchin' yer death of cold." Tolbert gently smacked Bud, who shot Tolbert a glare before going upstairs.

Tolbert snorted, going to the kitchen table and sitting down, setting up a game of checkers. Despite Bud being ten years younger than him, he found that he enjoyed playing the game with him, as Bud could make quite a few unpredictable moves that usually left Tolbert flabbergasted and the one who lost.

"_Ooh! _We playin' checkers?" Tolbert looked behind him, seeing that Bud had already given his wet clothes to their mother, who was washing them. He could see excitement shining in the boy's hazel-green eyes.

"If ya wanna," Tolbert shrugged.

"Yes, I wanna! I call the light pieces."

"Well now dagon, that means I've gotta move!"

"No it don't," Bud countered. "Jus' spin the board 'round."

"I was tryin' t' mess with ya," Tolbert rolled his eyes, spinning the board around. "Sit down. I'll play a game wit'cha."

* * *

**_December 1874_**

Tolbert shivered as he moved through the woods, making his way back to his home. His ten-year-old brother was on his hip, his face pressed in the crook of Tolbert's neck. Tolbert kept his arms wrapped around him tightly, a futile attempt to shield him from the brisk winter wind that blew around them that seemed to slice Tolbert's skin.

"Tol'ert, 'm _cold,_" Bud mumbled, face still pressed against Tolbert's neck.

"I know... So am I. We'll be home in a few minutes," Tolbert assured him, quickening his pace a little. Bud whined and tightened his grip on the back of Tolbert's coat before falling silent again.

"Tolbert..."

"Hm?"

"You think Mama n Poppy'll be angry with us?"

"Nah. We did exactly what they would've done. Stop worryin' about that."

"Tol... What happened to Uncle Harmon?"

"He was killed," Tolbert responded. "All 'cause he fought for the Union durin' the war. Jim Vance, Devil Anse Hatfield's uncle, killed him in cold blood."

"What's that mean?"

"Means he had no reason t' do it other than he wanted to."

"Oh... 's that why we don't like the Hatfields?" Bud pulled back, looking at Tolbert curiously.

"That's one reason why," Tolbert nodded slightly.

"Why don't Poppy talk 'bout Uncle Harmon?"

"I don't rightly know, Bud. Why don't you focus on somethin' other than the disagreement between our family and the Hatfields?"

"Mkay. We almost home?"

"Yeah. Jus' a few more minutes and we'll be home."

* * *

"_Tolbert!_"

Tolbert jerked awake and threw the blanket off of him, scrambling to get to the door. Bud came racing down the hallway, tears streaming down his face. Tolbert crouched down and caught him, lifting the boy and carrying him inside his room. Tolbert would have set Bud on the floor again, but Bud had wrapped his arms and legs tightly around Tolbert and refused to let go. Tolbert shut the door and rubbed Bud's back, softly shushing the boy.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Tolbert questioned, wiping the tears off of Bud's face.

"Y-you died," Bud sobbed, burying his face in the crook of Tolbert's neck.

Tolbert immediately felt horrible for telling the boy about what had really happened to their Uncle Harmon. All their mother and father would tell him was that he had died and that the Hatfields were somehow involved with his death.

Tolbert sat down on his bed, his back against the headboard.

"Hey... hey, put your head on my chest." Bud did, hearing a steady thump. "As long as ya hear that, I ain't dead. An' believe me, Bud, I ain't dyin' for a while."

"Promise?" he sniffled, peering up with tear-filled hazel-green eyes.

"I promise," Tolbert nodded slightly. "Now get some rest. Mama'll kill me if I let ya stay up any longer."

* * *

**_February 1875_**

Bud huffed as he walked home, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat. His nose and lip were busted and bleeding, the strong iron scent of blood overwhelming his senses. He knew his knuckles were bleeding, as they had split when he punched William Hatfield directly in the jaw. He'd earned a few punches from William before his older brother Johnse joined in, and together the two had managed to beat Bud to a pulp.

And Bud refused help. He was _fine._ He didn't need any of his older brothers (well, the two that were still in school) to walk him home when he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. He'd learned the hard way that starting a fight before school began led to being thrown out of school (for lack of a better term) and being told not to come back. The teacher, a young woman from some city up north named Miss Franklin, had given him a folded piece of paper and told him to give it to his father.

The only problem was that Ran'l couldn't read. So while Bud agreed, he'd really have to give it to Tolbert, who could read and write exceptionally well.

Arriving home, Bud felt a lump form in his throat. He headed to the barn, where he knew Tolbert would be, and tried to swallow past the lump that had formed. He would have been lying if he said that he wasn't slightly relieved that Tolbert's back was to him when he entered the barn, as it bought him a few more seconds to think of what he was going to say.

"Whatcha want?" Tolbert called over his shoulder, not bothering to look back to see who it was.

"I... I..." Bud tried to form a word, but it wouldn't come out. He grimaced as Tolbert whipped around, eyes widened in shock.

"What're you doin' home? No... no, what _happened_ t' ya?"

"I got int' a fight with William Hatfield. Was doin' alright 'til Johnse joined in. Miss Franklin says I can't go back no more," Bud explained quickly and quietly, pulling the paper out of his pocket. "Here. She said t' give this t' Poppy, but he can't read."

Tolbert took the paper out of his brother's outstretched hand, glancing at him before unfolding it and reading it. It was silent for a moment or two, save for the sound of hay rustling as Bud shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to distract himself in some way.

"Ah, who needs a school with that teacher anyways? C'mon, let's get ya cleaned up."

Tolbert placed a gentle hand on Bud's shoulder, guiding him out of the barn. As they were walking toward the cabin, it suddenly dawned on Bud that the cart and two of the horses were gone.

"Tol, is Mama an' Poppy home?"

"No. They went int' town. Should be back soon," Tolbert responded, pushing the door open for the boy. Bud hummed and nodded, going inside and sitting at the kitchen table.

Tolbert fetched a bowl of water, a clean handkerchief, and a bandage, just in case Bud's knuckles needed to be wrapped. He cleaned the boy's face, ridding it of any blood that stained it, then cleaned his hands, wiping them free of blood as well.

"What made ya hit him?" Tolbert asked, voice rid of any emotion but curiosity.

"He kept sayin' you're a bad influence on me," Bud huffed, turning his head the other way. "I told him t' stop an' he didn't. I even told him you're the best big brother, an' he jus' laughed in my face. Guess that's what really made me mad... an' I punched him. Can't say I regret it, 'cause I don't, but... are ya mad at me, Tol?"

"No, I'm not mad at ya. Quite proud, actually. Ya stood your ground an' if it had been a fair fight, ya would've won. Now go change outta that shirt. Ya got blood on it."

"But Tolbert, this is my only clean one."

"Well, it ain't clean no more, an' I ain't lettin' ya run around in a shirt with blood on it. I'll go get ya one."

Bud rolled his eyes once Tolbert turned his back to him, rushing upstairs to find a shirt. Bud untucked his, and swiftly unbuttoned it, letting it hang on his frame. It was getting too small (it was already too small) but he knew they couldn't afford to get a new one. So each time his mother asked him if his shirt was too small, he'd say that it wasn't and go on his way, hoping and praying she wouldn't catch that he was lying.

"Here ya go."

Bud stood up, the shirt that was hanging on him coming up to his lower back. Tolbert looked at him strangely, watching him wrestle the shirt off.

"Ain't ya told Mama it's too small?" Tolbert asked, sitting down and helping him get the fabric off of his arms.

"No."

"Why not? Ya can't go 'round wearin—"

"We can't 'ford no new shirts right now," Bud said quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

"Bud, ya can't go 'round wearin' a shirt that's too small for ya. It ain't a big deal if ya need a new one."

"But we can't _afford it._"

Tolbert helped him into the shirt that he'd found, noting how it was too big on him. He'd expected it to be, as it was one of his shirts, but he hadn't expected it to be _that_ big on his baby brother.

"Ya won't tell Mama, will ya?"

"As much as I want to, no," Tolbert replied, picking up the bloodstained shirt.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Bud exclaimed, the words all tied together as he hugged his older brother.

"_Because_ ya ain't gonna have this anymore," Tolbert continued, folding the ruined shirt before stuffing it in the back of the cabinet. "Now c'mon."

"Where we goin'?"

"You'll see."

* * *

"No."

"If ya want me t' stay quiet 'bout the other shirt, yer gonna find one ya like," Tolbert hissed, tossing a blue shirt at his brother. "Like that one?"

"Tolbert, I don't need—"

"Yer other one's ruined. Blood don't come out. So pick a shirt and shut ya mouth."

Bud huffed.

"Tolbert, _we can't afford—_"

"I know what we can afford and what we can't. We can afford gettin' you somethin' you need. Mama an' Poppy'll never know, 'cause it's my money, not theirs."

"But I don't need it!"

"Randolph McCoy Junior, if ya know what's good for you, you're gonna pick a dang shirt," Tolbert growled in the boy's ear. "Otherwise Mama n Poppy's gonna know exactly why I have t' buy ya a new one, an' it ain't gonna be jus' b'cause ya outgrew the other."

"Fine."

Tolbert, a young man that was undeniably hot-headed, sighed in relief. He didn't lose his temper very often in front of Bud, not wanting to frighten the boy, and he felt he did pretty well when it came to keeping his temper in check. Every once in a while he would lose his temper and Bud would get the brunt end of it, but it didn't happen very often.

Unfortunately for Tolbert, Bud was around him so much that he'd started to pick up on certain traits that Tolbert had. His father often joked that while Bud was the most level-headed out of the McCoy boys, he had been around Tolbert so much that he became just as stubborn as he was. And if Tolbert could have denied it, he would've. Yet he'd seen his father's point, as he'd never had to fight with Bud when he was being stubborn and saw exactly what his father meant by it.

He leaned against the wall and exhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. He needed to calm down. Bud hadn't done anything wrong; he had just expressed his feelings on buying something he needed, and Tolbert felt that it was utterly absurd that a ten-year-old was willing to wear a shirt that was too small because he knew their family was poor. And above it all, Sally had asked him every day for the past two weeks if it was too small for him, and each day he said no.

"Tol?"

"Hm?"

Tolbert opened his eyes, looking down at his baby brother. Bud held out a white shirt, which Tolbert took. He paid for the shirt, then ushered Bud out of the store.

"Ya think Poppy'll be mad?" Bud asked as he mounted the horse.

"Nah. Ev'rybody knows that new teacher don't like the likes of us," Tolbert responded, handing Bud the new shirt. "I think you'll be jus' fine, s' long as I tell Poppy I plan t' teach ya what ya need t' know."

Bud nodded slightly.

"Don't you worry none. It'll be fine."

* * *

Bud, dressed in his new shirt, jumped on Tolbert's back, his arms wrapping around his brother's neck. Tolbert cried out, startled, and stumbled forward before catching his balance.

"Thank ya," Bud mumbled, laying his head on Tolbert's shoulder.

"For what?" Tolbert tilted his head toward him, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Buyin' this. Ya didn't have to. The other one was jus' fine."

"Ya know good n well ya wouldn't've been able to wear that shirt. It was too small and had blood on it."

"Still, it woulda worked just fine 'til Mama got 'round t' gettin' a new one."

"Mama would've done it sooner if she knew ya outgrew it," Tolbert remarked.

"Ya didn't have t' spend your money on me."

"Not everythin' is about money. If ya need somethin', ya need it. It don't matter how much it costs. A few cents don't matter if it means you're wearin' somethin' that actually fits."

"But still! It's _your_ money."

"An' I willin'ly went and bought ya a shirt that you _needed._ I can be more stubborn than you, s' don't even try t' argue with me."

"Fine. I love ya, Tolbert."

"Love ya too, Bud."

* * *

**_September 1877_**

"_Let go!_" Bud screeched, trying to get out of Tolbert's grasp. Tolbert struggled to hold him back, as Bud was nearly as tall as he was, and that made it a little more difficult to keep him restrained. "Let me go, dagon it!"

"Calm down," Tolbert told him, managing to keep his voice steady. "I ain't lettin' ya go 'til ya calm down. Ya've hurt him enough. Ya made your point about five minutes ago."

Bud stopped fighting against Tolbert, his chest heaving as he glared at Calvin, who was sprawled on the ground with a busted nose and lip. Tolbert hadn't thought Bud was strong enough to take Calvin, but as it turned out, the most level-headed McCoy boy was a force to be reckoned with when he was angry. Tolbert wasn't sure what Calvin had said or done to provoke such a reaction, and he certainly wasn't dumb enough to ask the boy that he held tightly against him while he still struggled to get out of Tolbert's grip.

"Alright, alright, calm down, Bud," Tolbert grunted, struggling to keep the younger boy restrained. He tightened his grip, wrestling with his younger brother to get him to stay put.

Calvin groaned on the ground, and Bud fought harder, a sob tearing from his throat. (Bud had always hated that he cried when he got angry. It always made him feel that he would never be taken seriously because of the tears.)

"Let me go, let me go, _let me go!_"

"Not 'til you calm down a bit," Tolbert hissed through gritted teeth.

Bud huffed and stopped fighting. Calvin sat up, staring at his two brothers with wide eyes.

"_Oh, _m' ankle," Calvin groaned, eyes flicking around and meeting Tolbert's.

"Ya best get inside. I ain't gonna be able t' hold him back much longer if he keeps fightin' like this."

Calvin nodded slightly, wincing as he slowly stood to his feet. He hurried toward the cabin as fast as he could (and given his current condition, it wasn't very fast), entering and closing the door behind him.

"Alright, listen," Tolbert spoke firmly. "I'm gonna let ya go, but ya gotta promise not t' go after him."

"I promise," Bud huffed.

Tolbert released him from his tight grip, the boy stumbling forward a few steps before catching his balance. He turned and glared at Tolbert, who apologized whilst picking up Bud's vest and hat.

"C'mon, we'll go huntin' an' you can tell me all about what happened. I doubt you'll wanna be here when Poppy gets home."

Bud nodded swiftly, rushing to grab his rifle and some bullets. Tolbert followed suit, a small smile on his face.

* * *

"—so I hit him as hard as I could," Bud concluded, leaning against an old oak tree.

Tolbert had become certain of one thing: Bud McCoy was going to be the death of him.

"While I kinda disagree with the way ya handled it," Tolbert began, trying to figure out how to put his thoughts into words that didn't sound insulting or harsh. He clicked his tongue before continuing, "I can see why ya did it. I prob'ly would've done the same thing."

Bud shot him a knowing look.

Out of the five McCoy boys, Bud and Tolbert were the closest. While they loved their other brothers dearly, they found that they got along better than they did with the others, and mainly just stayed in each other's company. Bud was the only person who could calm Tolbert down, other than Ran'l and Sally.

"Alright, so ya know I would've done the same thing," Tolbert amended, earning a nod and hum of satisfaction in return. "_But_ ya can't go 'round hittin' people every time they insult ya."

"It wasn't that he said I'm a simpleton," Bud shook his head, his thumb running over the barrel of his gun. "It was that he said it in the middle of town, loud 'nough for ev'rybody t' hear, even the Hatfields! They were all laughin' an' joined 'im in mockin' me."

"I'm surprised," Tolbert muttered. "The Hatfields were laughin'? Ya'd think they wouldn't since they got Cotton Top."

Bud gave Tolbert a look while setting his gun against a tree. Tolbert sighed, pulling Bud into a tight embrace, patting his back gently. Bud wrapped his arms around Tolbert's middle, his head on Tolbert's shoulder.

"Why'd he call ya that anyway?"

"I dunno," Bud mumbled, shrugging.

Tolbert hummed, picking a leaf out of Bud's hair. Bud stepped back and gave him an odd look.

"There was a leaf in your hair," Tolbert chuckled, showing him the orange leaf. Bud laughed, punching Tolbert's shoulder. "What'd ya do that for?"

"'Cause I can," Bud shrugged, snatching his rifle. He turned back toward Tolbert. "Ready t' head home?"

Tolbert nodded, grabbing his gun and following Bud.

* * *

**_March 1878_**

Bud sat down with his back against the post, trying to focus on the stars. His chest was starting to hurt, and he felt a little dizzy, but he was sure he was fine. After all, he'd just had another one of those dreams (one of the ones Tolbert had mocked during their argument earlier that evening) and had to calm himself down.

The problem was that he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe and it was making it worse and Tolbert wasn't there to help him and—

"Bud? Hey, what's wrong?" Tolbert's voice pierced the deafening silence.

"Can't-can't breathe," Bud forced the words out.

Tolbert knelt in front of Bud, gently gripping his biceps. Bud tightly grasped Tolbert's forearms, his hazel eyes shining with fear.

"Take a breath, Bud!" Tolbert exclaimed.

"I can't!" Bud sobbed, struggling to take in a breath. "'M scared."

"Listen, alright?" Tolbert grabbed one of Bud's hands, placing it on his chest. "Do what I do."

He breathed in deeply, holding it until Bud did the same. Tolbert then exhaled, and Bud did as well, a harsh cough tearing from his lungs. This kept on for several moments (that felt like an eternity) until Bud could breathe without having to copy Tolbert.

Bud coughed harshly. He took deep gulps of the cold night air, moving closer to Tolbert and curling up against him while he did so. Bud laid his head on Tolbert's shoulder, his breathing somewhat normal. Bud began coughing again, Tolbert rubbing his bare back comfortingly.

"That hurt," Bud whined, his forehead pressed against Tolbert's neck. Tolbert didn't say anything. He only continued to rub Bud's back. "Can we go inside? 'M cold."

"Yeah, we can go inside if ya want ta."

Bud huffed in relief, slowly getting up. Tolbert was up in less than a moment, holding the front door open for Bud, who rolled his eyes exasperatedly at his brother, who was smirking in response. He shuffled inside and Tolbert followed, being sure to close the door behind him.

* * *

**_October 1878_**

Bud huffed as he wiped the sweat from his brow, running a hand through his frizzy brunette hair. The frizziness was something that happened each summer and each harvest season, as he spent most of his time outdoors directly in the sun either tending to the crops or harvesting them. He didn't know exactly what made it frizzy, but he had tried to slick his hair back that morning in hopes it would keep it from becoming the way it had and had quickly learned that it was useless.

Tolbert had told him that morning that his hair was fine, that there wasn't any use in slicking it back, but he hadn't listened and had done it anyway. And since Tolbert and Bud worked together in the fields, well, Tolbert was having a little too much fun teasing Bud.

"What's wrong, Bud?" Tolbert asked as he leaned against Bud's shoulder, a single arm resting on it.

"Floyd Hatfield's talkin' with Poppy. Say, ain't that our missin' pig in his cart?"

Tolbert strained to see the marking on the pig's ear, eyes widening slightly.

"Yes, it is," Tolbert mumbled. "I don't think Poppy's noticed yet."

Bud raised a brow, turning toward Tolbert. "I _know_ Poppy ain't noticed yet. We both know he's 'bout as hot-headed as you are, an' he'll say somethin' when he does."

"Why don't ya go tell Mama?" Tolbert shot him a look.

Bud nodded and hurried toward their mother, who was bent down bundling some of the harvest.

"Mama! Mama, look in that cart," Bud whispered, tying a bundle that laid beside Sally. Sally shot her youngest son an odd look before doing what he asked.

"My Lord," she breathed, turning back toward Bud. "Ain't that yer Poppy's markin'?"

"Yes, ma'am it is. Me n Tolbert noticed an' thought we should tell ya."

"Do ya plan on tellin' your Poppy too?" Sally asked teasingly.

"Mama, I don't care t' tell you, but I ain't gonna tell Poppy Floyd Hatfield has our pig in his cart. I ain't gonna be close t' him when he finds out."

Bud flinched when Ran'l started to yell. Sally patted her son's shoulder gently.

"Go on back t' Tolbert. I have a feelin' the two of you are gonna be goin' to fetch Perry Cline."

* * *

Bud, like his mother and Tolbert, had thought that going to court over a pig was ridiculous. There were ways to settle it outside of a courtroom where Wall Hatfield sat as judge. They could have just fought with Floyd, or just taken their hog back without so much as a word to him.

But Perry Cline had convinced Ran'l that suing over a pig was a good idea since it was stolen from the McCoys. It was their marking on the pig's ear, one that was marked differently from every other pig in the valley so they wouldn't mistake anyone else's pigs for theirs. Bud had been there when Ran'l notched its ear, had seen the pig several times before it went missing. But then it wandered off and ended up in the hands of Floyd Hatfield, who'd probably taken quite a few pigs from the people of the Tug Fork Valley.

So the McCoys, like the Hatfields, had gone to the courthouse, where the trial was to be held. Bud sat beside Tolbert, shifting uncomfortably and tugging at the sleeve of his coat.

"Quit it," Tolbert slapped his hand.

"'S hot in here," Bud mumbled. "Hope this is quick."

"You an' me both."

* * *

The trial went horribly. While it was undeniably one of the fastest court cases Bud had ever witnessed, it was something that had impending doom hanging over it from the very beginning. Aside from the judge putting it in simple terms so they could rush the process (crops needed harvesting and they couldn't do it themselves), Floyd had already butchered and eaten the hog. Both Bud and Tolbert had shifted uncomfortably, knowing that if much more went wrong, their family would lose the case, and it would do nothing but make them the idiots of the Tug Valley.

While Bill Staton gave a (drunken) testimony that he'd seen Floyd notch the hog's ear, Bud had been messing with his vest, trying to distract himself from what would certainly be one of the worst explosions he'd ever witness. He wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to take sitting in a hot courtroom either.

It was after Bill's testimony that it really went downhill. Selkirk, who had married a Hatfield, voted in Floyd's favor, which ruled the case that the Hatfields won and the McCoys lost. This led to an argument; each family screaming at the other. Bud was pretty sure one of his younger cousins had started a fight with one of the Hatfield boys, but he couldn't tell from where he stood on the chair.

A gunshot rang through the courtroom, everyone turning to face a furious Wall Hatfield. After swearing that he'd gut shoot the next person who disrespected his courtroom, Bud grabbed the back of Pharmer's chair before stepping down.

His father was speaking with Devil Anse, and all he heard was, "Here's scripture for you, Devil Anse. Blood toucheth blood."

He glanced uneasily at Tolbert, who glanced at him as they followed their father out of the courtroom.

"What just happened?" Bud whispered as he and Tolbert crossed to Tolbert's wagon. Tolbert sighed and looked at Bud.

"I don't exactly know. All I know's that Selkirk ain't gonna be too pleased with Poppy anymore. Poppy prob'ly won't let him come 'round since he voted for the Hatfields."

"Well... him marryin' a Hatfield did cause all that trouble. Maybe it ain't such a bad thing. An' b'sides, wouldn't the judge have t' make a vote if the jury couldn't come t' a decision?"

"Ya have a point," Tolbert murmured under his breath. He was quiet for a moment, then answered, "I ain't real sure. But I think he'd have the final say in it, yeah."

"Then, either way, it was a clear-cut case for the Hatfields."

"When'd you get t' be so smart?" Tolbert teased, leaning against the cart.

"It ain't nothin' t' figure that out. Let's go home b'fore we're up half the night in the fields."

* * *

**_January 1879_**

Tolbert smacked at Bud, who laughed as he grabbed his coat and pulled it on.

"You better be thankful you're my brother."

Bud only smiled as he headed out, ignoring Tolbert as he called for him to come back. He rushed downstairs, greeting his mother with a peck on the cheek and, "Morning, Mama!"

"Mornin', Bud. You're in an awfully good mood," she smiled at her son, who shrugged lightly.

"No reason not t' be."

"Can't argue with that. Why don't ya go gather the eggs for me? I'd have one of your sisters do it, but I ain't seen hide nor hair of 'em this mornin'."

"Alright."

Bud grabbed the basket off the counter. He started to walk toward the door, then spun on his heel.

"By the way, Tolbert's in a bad mood this mornin'." Then he walked out the door.

Sally giggled and shook her head, knowing that with his chipper mood, he'd probably done something to make Tolbert's worse. She never understood how the two were complete opposites and always hung around each other, getting along like they had everything in common. She knew that Bud liked peace and was level-headed. Tolbert, while he did his best, was as hot-headed as could be, and often ended up starting a fight. (Bud usually intervened.)

She had gotten used to all five of her boys having different moods every morning. Jim was usually still half-asleep when he came downstairs, Tolbert was grumpy until he had his coffee, Calvin was in a bad mood until at least eight, Pharmer could be in a good or bad mood (it depended on how well he slept), and Bud was usually in a decent mood.

She loved them all dearly and knew exactly how to handle each one of them in the mornings. She wouldn't care to admit that Bud was the easiest to deal with in the mornings, as he always seemed to be in a good mood, but she never did. She kept it to herself and talked to each of her boys, whether she actually got a response or not.

"Here ya go, Mama."

Bud set the basket next to her on the counter.

"Thank ya, Bud. Coffee's done if ya want some."

"Thank ya," Bud muttered, grabbing a mug and pouring some coffee in it. "Ya want some?"

"No thanks."

Bud nodded and set the coffeepot back on the stove, sipping his coffee. Bud went to the table and sat down, eyes flicking up to the staircase when he heard the door slam shut. It was either Tolbert, Calvin, or Pharmer, that much he was certain of. The grumbling made it obvious that it was Pharmer, who plopped down beside Bud the instant he was close enough to do so.

"Mornin'," Bud grinned, clearly amused at his older brother.

"Shut up," Pharmer murmured. "'S that coffee?"

"Mhm."

Pharmer got up again, shuffling to the stove and pouring himself a cup of coffee. Bud did his best to hide his amusement, as Pharmer was somewhere between a good mood and a bad mood, and one wrong word or action could make it a bad one.

"Mornin', Pharmer," Sally greeted him.

"Mornin'," he mumbled, taking a sip of coffee. He looked over at Bud, who had been sipping his own coffee, and shuffled back to the table. He sat down, rubbing his eye before taking another sip of his coffee.

"Not. A. Word."

"I didn't say nothin'!"

* * *

That afternoon, Bud came home soaking wet. His horse had thrown him straight into the river (no thanks to whoever decided to shoot at the tree directly beside him) and he was _freezing. _It took a good half-hour to get home from the river, and he wasn't exactly thrilled to be riding home with soaking wet clothes.

The good thing was that someone had a fire built in the fireplace, and smoke was pouring out of the chimney. Bud hitched his horse outside and hurried in, teeth chattering.

"What happened t' you?" Pharmer's eyes scanned Bud's rigid frame.

"T-tell ya in a m-m-minute," Bud stuttered, rushing toward the stairs so he could go change. He ran upstairs and went inside the room he shared with Tolbert, closing the door and hurrying to find something to change into.

Bud went downstairs in his undershirt, his dry one thrown over his shoulder. He hung his clothes by the fire and sat down in front of the fireplace, shivering violently.

"Wanna tell me what happened now?" Pharmer handed him a cup of hot tea.

"Mid-Midnight thought I wanted t' take a s-swim in the r-r-river."

"In other words... ya got thrown off your horse?"

"Uh-huh." Bud sipped the tea, savoring the warmth. "'S really cold, Pharmer."

"Yeah, I know. Put your shirt on."

"In a minute," Bud mumbled, downing the rest of the tea. He pulled on his shirt and buttoned it, wrapping his arms around his knees. He scooted a little closer to the fire, Pharmer protesting him moving any closer.

"I'll go get ya a blanket or somethin'. Just don't get any closer t' that! You're gonna set yourself on fire!"

"Least I'll be warm," Bud moaned miserably, curling into a ball.

"_Bud!_" Pharmer chided.

"Jus' sayin'."

Pharmer sighed as he headed up the stairs, shaking his head.

Bud stayed by the fireplace, mumbling to himself. He gasped as he remembered that Midnight was hitched to the front of the porch. He started to get up just as Pharmer returned, wrapping the blanket around his baby brother's shoulders.

"What're you doin'?"

"Midnight—"

"I'll take care of it. You stay in here, alright? We don't need ya gettin' sick."

"Mkay. Thank ya," Bud said gratefully, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"Think nothin' of it. Tolbert should be comin' back in a minute or two... he's splittin' wood."

"Alright. An' thank you, again, for takin' care of Midnight."

"It's nothin'. Now sit down and warm up."

* * *

Tolbert entered the cabin, a shiver running down his spine. He was shocked to see Bud curled up in front of the fireplace, sleeping soundly with a blanket wrapped around him tightly.

"What in the..." he muttered under his breath, slowly approaching the boy. He set the wood in his arms down by the fireplace before bending down and shaking Bud's shoulder. "Hey."

Bud stirred, eyes fluttering open and meeting Tolbert's.

"Mm... 'ey," Bud smiled sleepily.

"Hey," Tolbert smirked in amusement. "What're ya doin' on the floor?"

"Long story."

"Yeah? Well, how 'bout you give me a minute, then we'll put ya t' bed an' ya can tell me all about it."

* * *

**_September 1880_**

Bud had run into Roseanna at the general store in town and had spent about ten minutes talking with her. He hadn't seen her since she'd been disowned (and Lord knows how hard it was for Bud to just leave her at the Tug) and he was more than happy to see that she was alive, well, and unharmed.

So when he went home that evening, with the message from Roseanna that she loved and missed everybody, he didn't think anything about it. The McCoys hardly ever went into town, and when they saw someone they knew, they always relayed the messages given whenever they could. It was the way it had been for as long as Bud could remember. And — in Bud's (disregarded) opinion — he thought the family would be happy to hear from Roseanna.

The McCoy family (including Perry Cline) sat outside before the women went inside, and Bud casually said, "I saw Roseanna t'day. She said t' tell y'all she loves and misses ya."

He wished that he could've taken it back, that he didn't say a word about Roseanna. His father had stood up swiftly, yelling and ranting as he whacked Bud with his belt, informing him that all talk of Roseanna was forbidden.

Bud scrambled to get off of the porch, landing in a heap on the ground in his haste. He threw an arm up to block the hit from his father's belt, hissing in pain from the force that was used.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Bud cried out, trying to block his face. "I didn't know!"

Bud gasped as the belt somehow hit his face, hurriedly climbing to his feet. He managed to turn around, his back taking the brunt of it. He felt his shirt rip and his skin open, but he figured it was better it be his back than his face. He could easily hide whatever was done to his back, but he couldn't hide what was done to his face.

"Poppy! Poppy, you're gonna hurt him bad!" Alifair cried out, tears rolling down her face.

Ran'l turned, staring at his daughter and the rest of the family that surrounded her.

"Ya've made your point, Ran'l. Don't hurt him anymore," Sally added, standing and moving closer to the edge of the porch.

Ran'l slowly nodded, going inside instead of saying anything. Bud kept his back turned, hiding the tears that fell as he tried to comprehend exactly what had happened and why his father reacted in such a way over Roseanna. He flinched away from whoever touched him, whipping around to see who it was. Tolbert held his hands up, a look of understanding on his face.

"Are ya alright?" Tolbert asked before Bud stumbled into his arms, hiding his tears by embracing his older brother. Tolbert understood and didn't scold him, or say anything that might dissuade him from hugging him again. "Let's go getcha cleaned up. Can't have any of those gettin' infected."

Bud nodded slightly, seeming to be in a state of shock as Tolbert led him inside.

* * *

The next morning, Bud was sore. His back ached, his ankle was paying for the fall he took off of the porch, his head hurt, and he was pretty sure he'd managed to twist his wrist in the middle of all the chaos that had happened as well. He groaned and rolled over onto his side, trying to ease the pain on his back.

Bud laid there for a minute, relishing in the slight relief. He had no doubt that once he started his chores that it would hurt even worse, and he wasn't ready to face it yet. Eventually, he pushed the blanket off of him and got up and dressed, wincing with each movement.

He went downstairs with his boots in hand, deciding he'd rather give himself a small break than try to wrestle with them.

"Mornin', Bud," Sally greeted, setting a cup of coffee down at Bud's spot. "How're ya?"

"Sore," he answered honestly. "Really sore."

"Mind if I look at your back b'fore breakfast? I don't want t' risk it."

"Sure, sure, gimme a minute," Bud agreed, carefully taking off his vest. He laid it on the table and slid his suspenders off his shoulders before unbuttoning the shirt, sliding his arms out of the sleeves (he was wearing the one Tolbert had given him; the one that was much too big).

Sally unwrapped the bandage that Tolbert had wrapped around him, sighing at the sight of her son's back.

"I'll clean it an' put a salve on it. It should help," Sally told him gently, moving away from him. Bud only nodded, propping his elbows on the table and placing his head in his hands, roughly biting down on his lip. He knew that there were several cuts on his back; that had been made clear when Tolbert cleaned them yesterday with the alcohol they used for medicinal purposes. Bud had nearly screamed, as it felt like his back had been set on fire, and had snapped at Tolbert much more harshly than he intended to.

Tolbert had understood and had apologized, which made Bud feel absolutely terrible for it. Bud had apologized while Tolbert was wrapping the bandage around him, which had earned him a slight smile.

Bud gasped and nearly shot up out of his seat when a cloth was pressed to one of the cuts, the burning sensation returning. He clamped a hand over his mouth, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the unexpected rush of pain.

"Sorry, Bud. I thought ya heard me," Sally murmured.

"'S a'ight, Mama," Bud grunted. "Wasn't payin' 'tention."

Sally finished cleaning the wounds and gently rubbed a salve onto his back. She then wrapped a clean bandage around him, the two talking quietly while she did so. Bud was more than happy to put his shirt back on and buttoned it swiftly.

"I thank ya. Tolbert didn't mean t', but he did end up hurtin' me yesterday."

"He know he did?" Sally tilted her head to the side.

"Yeah," Bud breathed. "I snapped at him when he did it. Felt horrible for it too."

"I don't understand how the two of ya get 'long as well as ya do. You're complete opposites."

* * *

**_November 1880_**

Bud had never condoned his sister's relationship with Johnse Hatfield. He had preferred her living with the Hatfields over sleeping in a cave, though he was sure that their Aunt Betty would've taken her in much sooner if she had only _gone to Aunt Betty's home. _But she was under the impression that Johnse loved her, and had been fooled into believing that he would marry her.

That led to the current situation — Roseanna was carrying Johnse's baby and was living with their Aunt Betty, and the McCoy boys were holding Johnse prisoner in their Uncle Harmon's old place.

While Bud had been against the idea from the start, he knew when to voice his opinion and when not to. When Tolbert had that murderous gleam in his eye, Bud knew to keep his mouth shut on the matter and go along with it. So he did, and one of his brothers had made some stew, and he had taken a bowl since he'd hardly eaten that day. The stew tasted just fine, but once Tolbert started to shout and Bud's heart rate started to accelerate, he knew his only way out was if he claimed to be sick. He had to stop them before they ended up getting themselves killed.

"'Stead of a last meal, can I get a last request?"

Bud looked over at Johnse, who had pulled him out of his thoughts.

"No!" Tolbert shouted. He paused for a moment, turned his head slightly, and barked, "What d'you want?"

"I wanna see Roseanna one last time."

Bud tried to keep to himself, tried not to let how he felt about that show on his face. But seeing the smirk on Pharmer's face after he looked at him, Bud knew he must've failed miserably at keeping the fact he felt that Johnse was an idiot hidden. After listening to Tolbert and Johnse bicker for a moment, Tolbert said, "He gets a bowl of stew. Mmm... Nothin' else."

Bud set the half-eaten bowl down beside him, focusing instead on his hands, which he clamped together.

"Stew didn't sit right with me. Y'all mind if I go home?" Bud lifted his head and turned toward his brothers.

"Oh, sure Bud. Ya shouldn't be here when we do the killin' anyway," Jim said as he stood and walked over to Bud.

"Yeah, you're too young," Pharmer (who was only a year older than Bud) chimed in.

"I ain't too young!" Bud snatched his rifle. "I jus' don't feel s' good, alright?" His eyes drifted to Johnse, who despite being bound, looked something between forlorn and accepting.

"Bye, Bud! I'll see ya on the other side."

Bud uneasily glanced at his brothers before walking out the door.

* * *

Bud knew that Tolbert was likely going to kill him. He'd gone and told Roseanna exactly what Tolbert was up to, and his Aunt Betty had refused to let him go back out in the rain. Matter of fact, she'd tried to dissuade Roseanna from going wherever it was she was going, claiming that she'd only get sick and it wasn't a smart thing to do in her condition. Bud had to agree, though he never did hear exactly _where_ Roseanna was headed. He assumed it was to the cabin, to talk — and maybe knock — some sense into their brothers.

"Why don't ya sit by the fire, Bud? I'll put on some coffee for ya."

"Oh, y' don't have t' do that. 'M alright," Bud forced a smile, sitting down by the fireplace and sighing as he pulled at his wet shirt.

"Might help ya warm up quicker. An' I bet it'll help ya stay 'wake 'til either your brothers or your sister gets here."

* * *

Bud had sat in one of the rocking chairs and ended up falling asleep. He was jerked awake by Tolbert pulling him up out of the chair by his collar. Bud had never seen Tolbert look so furious, and it honestly terrified him.

"What'd you _do?!_" Tolbert shouted, making Bud flinch.

"I didn't do nothin'!" Bud exclaimed, gasping when Tolbert tightly gripped his arms.

"Devil Anse showed up, Bud! What. Did. You. Do?!"

"All I did was talk t' Roseanna!"

"Ya didn't tell her what we were doin', did ya?" Tolbert's voice lowered dangerously low. Bud stayed silent, hanging his head and refusing to meet his brother's eyes. "Ya coulda had us _killed!_"

"I'm sorry! I didn't know she would—_Ow! _Let go, you're hurtin' me!"

"What made ya do a fool thing like that?" Tolbert screamed, knocking Bud into the wall. Bud's breath was knocked out of him, Tolbert's grip on his arms tightening the longer he shouted.

"I thought she'd jus' talk t' you!"

"Well, she didn't! She went an' told the Hatfields, now look at us! They showed up and forced us ont' our _knees, _Bud! We woulda been killed instead of Johnse, don't ya understand that?" Tolbert released one of Bud's arms, whacking the boy on the side of his head.

"I'm sorry!" Bud fought to get out of Tolbert's grasp, as he had grabbed the arm he'd just freed again. "Let me go!"

"If ya'd just gone home like ya said—"

"_They would have killed you!_" Bud yelled. "Don't ya think that after ya shot Johnse, Devil Anse and his men would jus' hunt you down an' shoot ya? I want ya t' _live, _Tolbert!"

"They nearly killed us tonight, because of you!" Tolbert retorted, eyes ablaze with fury. Bud flinched as his breathing became irregular.

"Let go, Tolbert, let go!"

"If ya would've done what ya said you were goin' t' do, we wouldn't be doin' this! What ever made ya think tellin' Roseanna was a good idea?!"

"I don't know! Now let me go, you're hurtin' me!"

"We coulda died t'night! Do ya understand that?! Do ya understand what ya coulda done?! Do ya not understand that—"

Bud stopped paying attention to Tolbert's words. The grip on his arm was getting to be unbearable, and Bud was starting to think that Tolbert would snap the bone in two if he didn't let go.

"_Tolbert, you're hurtin' me!_" Bud screamed, causing Tolbert to quickly release him. "I'm sorry, alright? I didn't think she'd go do somethin' like that. I thought she'd talk t' you or somethin'."

"Oh my God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean t—"

"I know. Jus' leave it be."

"Everything alright in here boys?" Aunt Betty hesitantly stepped into the room.

"Fine, Aunt Betty. Thank ya for lettin' me stay here 'til he showed up."

The older woman nodded as the two boys headed out, knowing that she'd never forget what she'd just witnessed.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Bud," Tolbert sighed once they got home.

"I _know, _Tolbert. Ya had every right t' be as mad as ya were," Bud told him as he wrestled the damp shirt off. "I'm sure I'd've been the same way if we switched."

"Let's not do that. I have faith you're gonna live t' be old 'n grey," Tolbert joked.

"With that temper of yours, I'm honestly shocked ya haven't been shot or stabbed yet," Bud remarked dryly.

"Says the boy who could wake the dead if he wanted. Ya proved that with the scream at Aunt Betty's."

"Ya wasn't listenin' t' me! I tried t' get ya t' let me go an' ya wouldn't, s' I had t' do somethin'!" Bud fell silent for a second before adding, "An' you're a fine one t' talk 'bout bein' able to wake the dead. Heck, I'll bet even the Hatfields can hear you when ya start yellin' on their side of the Tug."

"Ya think you're funny, don't ya?" Tolbert looked at Bud as he climbed in bed. (Sally had been gracious enough to allow them to sleep until breakfast was done, and it would take at least an hour since Alifair wasn't up yet.)

"Occasionally," Bud responded, turning onto his side. "Now shut up an' go t' sleep. 'M tired."

* * *

**_February 1881_**

Bud huffed as he waited for the rest of the family, knowing that his parents would speak with the neighbors that they hadn't seen in a while. He spent his time wandering, nodding politely to the people who acknowledged him.

"Ya know, that Roseanna McCoy got what was coming to her. Goin' and livin' with Johnse Hatfield when they wasn't even married! Shameless, that's what she is. A shameless girl with no respect for herself or her family!"

Bud was always known as the polite, level-headed McCoy boy. Unfortunately, he never took too kindly to hearing his family being talked about.

"I know it. I'll bet she'll think twice before doing it again! I'll bet ya the instant Ran'l disowned her, she regretted ever meetin' Johnse. Hope she learned a lesson from it."

Bud gritted his teeth. It wasn't any of his business, but he knew that if they said much more, he wouldn't be able to hold his tongue.

"Yes. One called stay away from the Hatfields."

"Oh, she moved in with them! Lived with 'em for months and tried t' come back t' her family like nothing ever happened! She came back expectin' and I honestly think she thought Ran'l would let her back in his home. I know _I_ wouldn't if she were my daughter."

Bud's blood was boiling. It was one thing to talk about his sister's mistake (Lord knows he and Tolbert had talked about it several times), but it was completely different when they brought her into it as though she was the only one at fault. Roseanna was easily manipulated into believing that Johnse loved her, and he knew that, and he used it against her.

"Say, ain't that Lil Ran'l?"

"Indeed it is."

Bud did his best to calm himself down. The last thing he needed was to snap at the middle-aged women at their church.

"Ya think he approves of what she did?"

"Prob'ly not. But I've heard people 've seen him goin' up there a lot lately."

"She is his sister," one pointed out. "Ya know he has t' love her, even if she did do somethin' that got her disowned."

"I don't know... I've heard a lot about it. They said he was the one t' take her t' the river after she was disowned. Said he hugged her, wished her the best, then just left her there with that Hatfield boy!"

"Ya mean he _knew_ where she was goin' and still just went back like it was nothin'?"

"I don't think he had much of a choice."

"I know if I was the one with her, I wouldn't have left her with him."

Bud, who had finally had enough, stepped closer and spoke up.

"I do hope ya know I've heard every word you've said about _my sister. _Ya can say whatever ya want 'bout me, I don't care, just _leave Roseanna alone._ She's goin' through enough without havin' t' hear what you no good busybodies stand around and say about her after Reverend Garrett gives a sermon on gossipin'. An' I'd rather have my sister livin' with Hatfields than sleepin' in a cave somewhere. Don't necessarily approve of it, but I knew she was safe. She came back an' decided t' go t' Aunt Betty's. Now I'd appreciate it if ya quit talkin' about my sister like she's someone that's lower than you. I can tell ya right now, she might be expectin' and unmarried, but she'd never go talkin' 'bout any of you behind your backs."

"Why would you defend her? She's done wrong!"

"An' so have you! Ya ain't no better than Roseanna. Roseanna is a nice girl who got herself int' some trouble 'cause she believed every word Johnse Hatfield told her. She's my sister, an' I love her dearly, so I'd appreciate it if ya would quit talkin' about her."

"I always said you'd grow up t' be just like that brother of yours, and I was right! You're just as hot-headed and rude as he is!"

"If you're referrin' t' Tolbert, he's not nearly as bad as ya think. Ya don't know him, ya don't know Roseanna, and ya don't know me! Don't go makin' assumptions about people. Tolbert's a good person with a good heart. Just 'cause he's hot-headed don't mean he's not. Tolbert's always been there for me, an' ya can never tell me that he don't have a good heart. If ya took the time to know the people ya talk about, ya might find that out."

And with that, Bud turned on his heel and walked off, wiping the few angry tears that had fallen after he spun around.

* * *

"Please, Tolbert?"

"Bud, I swear, if ya don't _sit down_ an' play the stupid game with me—"

"Ya told me ya would. Roseanna's had the baby an' I wanna see it. It ain't like she's livin' with the Hatfields no more!"

Tolbert, who had just wanted to play a game of checkers, glared at Bud.

"I don't care _where_ she's livin'. I ain't goin' nowheres."

"Tolbert—"

"If ya sit down an' shut up, I'll take ya t'morrow."

Bud beamed and sat down, moving his piece on the board.

* * *

"Here ya go."

Roseanna carefully placed Sarah Elizabeth into Bud's arms, smiling at her little brother. She sat down beside him on the sofa, utterly exhausted.

"Sarah Elizabeth, ya said?"

"Uh-huh. Sally for short."

"That's a purdy name. I like it."

"Glad ya do," Roseanna chuckled. "She's a McCoy too. Tolbert shouldn't hate her too much."

Bud shot Roseanna a look. "Tolbert won't hate her at all. He won't admit it, but he's got a soft spot for little babies."

Roseanna snorted (in a very unladylike way) and curled up, a quilt being pulled over her.

"Why don't ya rest a while? I don't mind watchin' her while ya do."

"Thank ya, Bud. I think I will."

* * *

Bud looked up at Tolbert, carefully raising one hand and placing a finger to his lips. Tolbert gave him an odd look before noticing Roseanna was asleep next to Bud, a quilt draped over her thin frame and her blonde hair messy. She looked utterly exhausted, and it was then that Tolbert noticed the bundle in Bud's arms.

"That the baby?"

Bud nodded, carefully standing and making his way over to Tolbert. He carefully handed the baby to Tolbert, who cradled her in his arms as carefully as he could. Though he'd never admit it, Tolbert had always had a soft spot when it came to infants and smaller children. And to be holding his niece instead of one of his siblings was something that just seemed ridiculous to him. Even if she was of Hatfield blood as well.

"Ain't she a pretty thing," Tolbert remarked quietly, being sure to speak softly so he didn't wake both the baby and Roseanna.

"She's definitely pretty," Bud agreed. "She named her Sarah Elizabeth McCoy."

"'S purdy," Tolbert whispered, eyes drifting over to his sleeping sister. Though she had been disowned, Tolbert never quit calling her his sister. She may not have been a part of the family according to their father, but Tolbert didn't care. Roseanna was his little sister.

Tolbert looked at Bud again, whose finger was gripped in Sarah Elizabeth's grasp and was quietly giggling.

"For some reason, I'm thinkin' you've secretly been excited over this."

"Wasn't excited over the fact it's Johnse's baby, but yeah." Bud allowed his eyes to flick up and meet Tolbert's. "I reckon I have been."

Tolbert quietly laughed, watching the youngest McCoy boy as he held his niece (it was weird to even think that Bud was old enough to be an uncle).

"When'd she have her?" Tolbert asked, realizing that he had never heard when Roseanna had her baby.

"Last week. Friday, I think," Bud answered. "Roseanna's been up all night. Said Sarah 'Lizabeth wouldn't stop cryin'."

"Well... that can mean two things. She's jus' restless or she's sick."

"I hope she ain't sick. She's so young."

"Like you're one t' talk 'bout bein' young," Tolbert scoffed.

"Ya know what I mean!" Bud huffed. "She's just _seven days old._ Me an' you can handle gettin' sick. I don't think she could."

"You're right. She couldn't. If she did get sick and she didn't get over it quickly, I'd say there prob'ly wouldn't be any hope for her." Tolbert kept his voice low in case Roseanna woke up.

"Oh, Tolbert, don't say that," Bud shook his head, trying to push any thought of that away.

"I'm not sayin' that she is. I'm just tellin' ya what I know," Tolbert murmured, caressing the baby's face. Bud shot him an uncertain look. "She's fine right now though. Don't worry 'bout it."

* * *

When Roseanna awoke, Tolbert and Bud were seated in the two rocking chairs that their Aunt Betty owned and had in her drawing-room, Bud still holding Sarah Elizabeth. The only difference was that she was awake, and held onto Bud's finger, which he didn't seem to mind very much.

The brothers were in a deep conversation and hadn't noticed that Roseanna was awake.

"Y'know the women at church? The ones who know everybody?" Bud asked.

"Sometimes I wish I didn't know 'em," Tolbert remarked dryly. Roseanna could remember the time their words had gotten under Tolbert's skin (he had just been a boy) and he avoided Bud for almost an entire week believing that he was a bad influence on him and that Sally would force the two apart.

"I don't think they like me very much," Bud mused.

"An' why's that?" Tolbert sounded genuinely curious.

"Well... I overheard 'em talkin' 'bout Roseanna not too long 'go. They said she done brought shame on the family an' they were glad Poppy disowned her... that it taught her a good lesson or somethin' like that. I told 'em exactly what I thought of 'em."

"Bud..."

"What? They're a bunch of no good busybodies that do nothin' but sit around and talk 'bout everyone behind their backs."

"Thank the good Lord above ya ain't heard what they say 'bout me," Tolbert laughed. "I doubt they'd be able t' speak anymore if ya knew all that."

"Oh, I don't think Bud would do much to 'em," Roseanna piped up, startling both of her brothers. "Might give 'em an earful, but that's about it."

"How much of that did ya hear?" Bud asked sheepishly, his cheeks reddening.

"Enough. Guess I should thank ya for defendin' me, even though I ain't got no honor left."

"I want t' know whatcha said, Bud."

"I'm sure you'll hear about it on Sunday," Bud snorted.

* * *

Bud had been right to assume that Tolbert would hear about it on Sunday. The two were standing and chatting, joking and laughing with each other like they usually did. Bud yelped when Tolbert pinched him (he wasn't listening to Tolbert), which earned a boisterous laugh from his older brother.

"I _told you_ that Lil Ran'l would end up like that brother of his! Why the nerve he had t' talk t' us the way he did!" Mrs. White exclaimed, tugging at her glove.

"Lil Ran'l was within his rights, though. We were talkin' about his sister, after all."

"It don't matter! That boy is hot-headed and rude! An' t' think he even took up for _Tolbert!_"

Bud let out a huff of amusement, keeping his back to the women. Tolbert shot Bud an odd look and he shrugged innocently, hazel-green eyes gleaming.

"Of course he's gonna take up for Tolbert! He's his brother."

"I don't think that's the only reason," Mrs. Phillips sneered. "There's got to be some reason that boy would willingly take up for Tolbert."

"Didn't he say that Tolbert's been there for him?"

"And you believe that?"

Tolbert shot Bud a look.

"And can ya believe he said he'd rather Roseanna live with the Hatfields than sleep in a cave? That means what we heard must be true!"

"'Cept Roseanna ain't livin' with the Hatfields no more. She's with their Aunt Betty now. Why I'll bet she's already had that baby. Ya think they'll have anythin' t' do with it?"

"Well, Bud was seen several times this week goin' t' Betty's place."

"And a few times with Tolbert."

Tolbert, who found the entire conversation amusing, spoke lowly as he asked, "Should we tell 'em?"

Bud thought on it for a few seconds.

"Nah. Let 'em find out their own way."

* * *

**_October 1881_**

Tolbert jerked when the bedroom door slammed shut, nearly dropping the knife in his hands.

"Oh, for the love of—" Tolbert cut himself off when he saw Bud's appearance. His face was pale, his eyes unfocused and sorrowful. His shirt was ripped from what seemed to be thorns, his hands bleeding slightly and his face having one or two small lacerations on it. His hair was disheveled and he seemed so motionless that Tolbert almost wondered if Bud was capable of slamming the door the way that he had. "Bud?"

Bud lifted his gaze, revealing how red his eyes were, a deep frown etched on his lips.

"She's dead, Tol," Bud said brokenly, his voice cracking with what seemed to be every word.

"Who's dead?" Tolbert's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Sarah 'Lizabeth."

"Oh my God."

Bud leaned his head back against the door, his eyes closed.

"Why do babies have to die?" Bud asked.

"I don't know," Tolbert answered honestly. "What... How did she die?"

"Measles an' pneumonia."

Bud shuffled to the bed, sitting down beside Tolbert. Tolbert wrapped an arm around Bud, letting the boy lean against him.

"I... I got t' the porch, was gettin' ready t' knock, an' heard Roseanna scream. I didn't knock at all, jus' ran in 'cause it was one of those screams that made your heart stop beatin' for a minute. I ran in an' she was on the floor, holding her an' sobbin'... When she looked at me, she begged me t' bring her back. _God, _Tol, I don't wanna see anythin' like that again."

"Ya won't," Tolbert murmured. "I know ya loved her, Bud, but she ain't sufferin' no more."

"I know. I keep tellin' myself that an' it ain't helpin' none. I just don't see why a baby has t' die, Tol."

"I know. I reckon that's one of those things no one'll ever understand."

"I feel s' bad for leavin'."

"Don't ya dare. Ya didn't need t' be there any longer than ya were."

"But Roseanna—"

"Needs time t' herself t' grieve."

"Ya sure?" Bud sniffled.

"Yeah, Bud. 'M sure."

* * *

Bud sipped the glass of moonshine, trying to ignore its bitter taste. He coughed, which confused him, but he figured that it was only because he'd never touched the stuff before. Tolbert wouldn't let him, and he was sure that if Tolbert knew about him drinking it in the hayloft, he'd kill him. (Alright, that was an exaggeration. Tolbert might smack him around for a few minutes while scolding him, but he wouldn't kill him.)

He'd been in a state of depression, living each day the same way. He went through the motions, went to bed, cried himself to sleep, and did it all again when he woke up. He figured that he could try something new, something to help him get out of the state he was in. Bud had been so desperate that he went along with the first thing that came to mind — and that happened to be moonshine, the stuff that his brother made but refused to let him drink. Tolbert had claimed that Bud was too young to be drinking it, and usually, Bud went along with what Tolbert said, but he was tired of living the way he was.

Bud ran his thumb along the rim of the glass, looking at the clear liquid that was in it. He'd drank half a glass and felt funny, and maybe he should have been concerned, but he was more relieved that he was actually _feeling something._

His eyes drifted to the door when it opened, one of his brothers stepping inside the barn. They grabbed a few pieces of firewood and left, but struggled to close the door. Bud didn't care. It was just a sliver of sunlight that fell into the barn, and it wasn't all that bad. He shook his head and took another drink.

* * *

Bud didn't know how long he'd been sitting in the hayloft downing moonshine, but he did know that he felt extremely funny at this point. He let out a huff and shifted, taking another swig of the moonshine.

The barn door opened and he assumed it was one of his brothers collecting firewood again. What he didn't expect to hear was the person climbing the ladder to the hayloft. If Bud had been even remotely sober, he probably would have hidden every bottle and glass. But he wasn't, and he was tucked in the corner, hidden from sight.

"I know you're up here, Bud."

Bud blinked owlishly, listening to Tolbert's voice.

"I know ya wanna get 'way from everyone for a while. But my God, Bud, ya've been missin' since this mornin' an' you're scarin' me. Calvin came in here three times an' didn't even know you were here."

He could hear Tolbert's footfalls getting closer. He didn't care; he just took another swig.

"Bud, listen t' me, I know ya ain't been yourself since Sarah 'Lizabeth died. I know you're grievin', but ya can't keep doin' this."

_Sarah Elizabeth. _Their niece who was only eight months old and had died. Bud let out a heart-wrenching sob, giving away his hiding spot. He picked up an empty bottle next to him and hurled it across the room, the glass shattering against the wall.

Tolbert gasped and took a step back, startled by the sudden noise.

"Bud?"

"Go 'way!" Bud shouted, his words slurred together. "I wanna be 'lone."

Bud sobbed as Tolbert drew closer. Sarah Elizabeth didn't deserve to die. She was just a baby, innocent and had an entire life to live. She shouldn't have died.

"Oh, Bud," Tolbert breathed as he crouched down in front of him.

"Leave me alone!" Bud screamed, shoving Tolbert as Tolbert grabbed the bottle out of Bud's right hand.

"Bud, hey, quit!" Tolbert set the bottle down behind him and grasped Bud's wrists, trying to keep his baby brother from striking him.

While Tolbert was angry with Bud for doing something he knew he wasn't allowed to do, he knew, logically, that Bud wouldn't do it without reason. He knew that Bud had been acting strange lately, and he'd tried to help him, he really had, but nothing worked.

"Let me go!" Bud wrenched his wrists out of Tolbert's grasp.

"Hey, hey, quit it! What's the matter with you?"

Bud stopped his fighting, curling into a ball as heart-wrenching, pitiful sobs ripped from the boy's throat. Tolbert sighed, pulling Bud close to him.

"Quit! Lemme go!"

Tolbert sighed and released him.

Tolbert never thought he'd be dealing with Bud while he was drunk, but here he was, trying to think of a way to get the boy out of the corner of the hayloft.

"Where's m' bottle?" Bud mumbled to himself, realizing that the bottle was gone.

"Ya don't need—"

"_I don't care!_" Bud screamed, cutting Tolbert off. "Give it t' me."

"No, Bud. Ya don't need anymore," Tolbert said sternly.

"Give it t' me! 'S mine!" Bud unsteadily stood up, spotting the bottle behind Tolbert. He didn't hesitate to shove Tolbert out of his way, snatching the bottle off the ground as he moved away from his older brother. He took a drink, using his sleeve to wipe his nose. "Jus' leave me 'lone."

"If I do that, you're gonna get hurt," Tolbert scoffed. "Ya can't drink s' much, Bud! Matter of fact, ya shouldn't be drinkin' at all!"

"I'm sixteen!" Bud shouted, his face turning red. "_You_ started drinking when you were fifteen! I'm tired of ya treatin' me like I can't do nothin'! I just want t' be alone! Why can't you leave me alone for _one day?_"

"B'cause I worry about you!" Tolbert snapped. "Ya haven't been actin' right since Sarah 'Lizabeth died, an' I've tried t' help ya in every way I can, but it ain't doin' no good! An' unless ya can give me a good reason for gettin' as drunk as ya are, you're gonna be in a lot of trouble t'morrow when you're sober."

"Well stop worryin' 'bout me!" Bud countered.

Tolbert bit the inside of his cheek. If he wasn't careful, he was going to lose his temper, and that was the last thing he wanted to do, especially with Bud being in the state he was in.

"I can't stop worryin' 'bout you!" Tolbert exclaimed, grabbing Bud's arm. "You're my brother, an' I care 'bout what happens to ya, Bud. I always have an' I always will, whether ya like it or not."

Bud didn't say anything; he only took a gulp of the bitter liquid that he'd spent a good part of the day drinking.

"Bud, will ya just listen t' me? Ya can't drink so much."

"I can if I want to."

"No, you can't."

"Jus' leave me alone!"

"_No!_" Tolbert bellowed, startling Bud so badly he nearly dropped the bottle in his hand. "I'm not leavin' you alone! Now you're gonna put that stupid bottle down, and you're gonna go over t' that ladder an' climb down it. Do you understand me?"

"Leave me alone!"

"I've already told ya I ain't leavin' you alone!"

Bud didn't know why he was so mad. He didn't really care enough to ponder on it for more than a few seconds before screeching, "I hate you! I hate you an' everythin' about ya! Now get out an' leave me alone!"

Tolbert punched Bud across the face as hard as he could, sending him flying to the floor. For a second he was stunned. He'd acted without thinking, and he had done the one thing he swore he'd never do. Bud looked at him with resentment, though Tolbert could see the fear that the drunk teenager tried to hide from him.

"Come on," Tolbert sighed, pulling him to his feet. "Let's get ya inside an' int' bed before ya pass out."

* * *

Tolbert hadn't slept a wink all night. He was afraid Bud would wake up, and if he knew anything about drinking, it was that Bud was going to be absolutely miserable when he woke up.

Sally came into the room, closing the door behind her as she looked at Tolbert, who was picking at his nails.

"Ya wanna tell me what happened last night?" Sally queried, making her way over to him.

"Bud got drunk," Tolbert sighed, leaning back in his chair. Seeing the shocked look on Sally's face made him feel worse. He had been told that it was a bad idea to leave his moonshine in the barn. He hadn't listened and had stored it there anyway, and now his youngest brother — who was still just _sixteen_ — was passed out drunk.

"What'd make him do a thing like that?"

"He ain't been actin' right since Sarah 'Lizabeth died. I reckon he finally got tired of it an' did the first thing that came t' mind." Tolbert paused. "Reckon I shouldn't let anythin' he said bother me too much."

"What'd he do?" Sally asked softly.

"Said he hates me an' everythin' 'bout me. I think he was jus' mad at me though."

"I'd say he was. Where'd ya find him?"

"The hayloft."

"My Lord," Sally breathed, looking at Bud, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully. "Well, I'm headin' down t' make breakfast. Don't be too hard on him when he wakes up, Tolbert."

"I won't be, Mama."

* * *

Bud's head throbbed as he came to. And on top of that, he felt nauseous. _Extremely _nauseous. He slowly cracked one eye open, groaning and shoving his face into his pillow.

Tolbert, who had been getting dressed, walked over and jerked the blanket off of him.

"Uh-uh. Up ya get."

"But Tol'ert—"

"Don't ya but Tolbert me. Now get up," Tolbert ordered, smacking Bud's leg gently. Bud sat up, his headache worsening as he glared at Tolbert. His lips were turned downward, and his jaw was sore. He didn't know why, but he didn't entirely care enough to ask either. "Somethin' wrong?"

"M' head hurts," Bud mumbled, placing his head in his hands. "An' my jaw. Feel sick too."

"Figured as much. Ya got s' drunk ya didn't care what ya said. Ya told me ya hated me an' I didn't think. I punched ya right 'cross the face, an' I do 'pologize for that, but why in the world were ya drinkin'?"

"Thought it'd help. Didn' think ya'd know."

"Bud, there was _at least_ five bottles of moonshine up there that'd been drained. Ya thought I wouldn't notice that?" Tolbert snapped loudly.

"Oh, don't yell," Bud moaned, his chin against his chest. His head was now touching his wrists more than being held in his hands, his hair pulled back away from his eyes. He gagged and moved one hand to cover his mouth.

"Woah, Bud. Ya gonna throw up?"

Bud looked at Tolbert, shaking his head slightly after a moment. Tolbert nodded, crossing his arms and giving Bud a look before continuing with his scolding.

"Ya didn't care t' yell last night."

"I was drunk, Tol."

"And ya know ya ain't s'pposed t' be drinkin', Bud."

"Ya started drinkin' when you were fifteen. I'm almost _seventeen_ an' it's the first time I've ever drank any 'shine, s' don't ya start on me this mornin'."

"So what? Ya gonna spend the day in the hayloft again drinkin'? Ya gonna get drunk an' scream an' yell? Tell me ya hate me an' everythin' 'bout me again?" Tolbert shouted.

"I'm sorry, alright? _I'm sorry._"

"Well sorry don't fix everythin'!" Tolbert lashed out before thinking better of it.

Bud sighed, bile rising in his throat again. He slowly got up, moving over to his chest and pulling out clean clothes. He dressed and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

He was back in the hayloft, three empty bottles by his side. Bud had been staring at them, as they were left there the day before, and was contemplating slamming them against the wall until they were nothing but small shards that were useless. He knew what Tolbert would have told him if he would have given him the chance to finish his lecture. He would have told Bud that the way he was coping with his grief was unhealthy and that he needed to find a better way to do it.

Bud leaned his head back against the wall, exhaling deeply through his nostrils. He didn't know what else he _could_ do. The only time he ever seemed to be able to cry was when he went to bed, and he had always cried silently then. He couldn't really feel anything, had become something that he had never wanted to become.

He picked up one of the glass bottles and slammed it against the wall beside him, the glass cutting the skin on his palm. He picked up another, doing the same with it. His unharmed hand laid limply by his side, clenching and unclenching into a fist.

While sitting there, a thought came to his mind. It was one that he'd thought at least a hundred times since Sarah Elizabeth died, one that Tolbert would have a fit over if he knew that Bud felt that way.

_It should have been him._

Bud started to cry; something that seemed impossible every time he felt the way he did. He curled up in the corner, tears streaming down his face as he whimpered quietly, trying to stay as silent as he possibly could. He clamped a hand over his mouth when a heart-wrenching sob tore from his throat, not wanting to be found.

"Bud? You up here?" Tolbert's boots thudded against the floor as he walked toward the corner he'd found Bud in the day before, stopping at the corner of the hay bales. "Bud?"

"Go 'way," he said tearfully, wiping his face with his sleeve. "I wanna be 'lone."

"That ain't gonna help none," Tolbert said softly.

"How d'you know?" Bud grumbled, sniffling.

"I jus' do. C'mon, we'll sit out here an' talk 'bout what's botherin' ya."

Bud nodded, standing and following Tolbert to the edge, where they both sat and let their legs dangle over it.

"I don't understand why she had t' die, Tol," Bud murmured.

"Neither do I. I've never understood why babies have t' die. Y'know, Mama don't ever talk 'bout it much, but she had a baby girl in 1857 in February. She was sickly. Only lived t' be four days old. She's buried in the cemetery, Infant Girl's what they called her. Never did get a chance t' name her."

Bud blinked as he looked at Tolbert.

"Don't remember much 'bout it. I was two when all that happened, but I do remember Mama cryin'. Poppy jus' held her 'til she stopped. Then Alifair was born, then Roseanna, Calvin, Pharmer, an' you. Right after you was born, Uncle Harmon got killed. Poppy was in a prison camp then that the Yankees had. When he came home, he held you an' Pharmer as close as he could an' jus' cried. He wouldn't let me go anywhere by myself for the longest time after he came home. Reckon he was scared they'd kill one of us too."

"'S hard t' think of Poppy bein' scared," Bud remarked.

"War changes a man, Bud. They don't come back the same man they were when they left. For a while they're skittish an' will do anythin' they think will protect their family. They won't let their chil'ren outta sight an' they don't stray far from home. After seein' s' many people ya start t' call friends die, I can't say I blame 'em."

"How do you know this?"

"Poppy told me once. I was 'bout thirteen or fourteen when he told me 'bout the war and how it changes a man."

Bud hummed and nodded, kicking his legs back and forth before looking at Tolbert and asking, "_Why_ are ya tellin' me all this?"

"We've all dealt with loss. We know what it's like t' lose someone an' how hard it can be t' cope with it. All I'm askin' is that ya talk t' someone next time before ya decide t' come up here an' get drunk."

Bud's face flushed red, and he hung his head, allowing his hair to fall in front of his eyes.

"Ya ain't gotta worry 'bout that, Tolbert. I ain't ever touchin' that disgustin' stuff 'gain."

Tolbert laughed loudly, his hand clapping Bud's shoulder while his boisterous laugh echoed off the walls.

"Oh God," he chuckled. "Don't you ever change, Bud."

* * *

"Why're you actin' so weird?"

"I ain't actin' weird," Tolbert denied instantly. Bud rolled his eyes.

"I'm seventeen, not three. I know when you're actin' weird," Bud stated matter-of-factly. "Now why are ya actin' weird?"

"I ain't actin' weird," he repeated.

Bud resisted the urge to smack Tolbert upside the head, instead settling for a sigh as he leaned against a post. He didn't miss Tolbert's amusement at the situation, the way he sat in the rocker with a small smirk on his lips while he cleaned his rifle.

If Bud was one to get angry as easy as Tolbert was, he might've slugged Tolbert with the washboard that their mother had set out to dry. The image was entertaining to Bud and he burst into infectious laughter, shaking his head as he placed it in his hands.

"What's so funny?" Tolbert quirked a brow.

"Jus' thought of somethin'. 'S nothin' real funny. Real stupid, act'ally."

"You're somethin' else," Tolbert remarked, shaking his head fondly at Bud, who still chortled.

Bud sat down and snorted, unable to get the image of Tolbert getting smacked with a washboard out of his mind. He'd tell Pharmer later, just so he could think up the same image and laugh along with him.

The two brothers fell into silence, save for the occasional giggle from Bud, who was still thinking about Tolbert getting smacked with the washboard. Tolbert would shake his head and roll his eyes fondly, leaving him be while he petted his hound dog.

The dog was a golden-brown color, and her name was Missy, as Bud had been the one to name her and liked the name for whatever reason he had. Tolbert could remember the day Bud got her last year, and he'd jokingly told Tolbert that he was going to name her Gold Nugget because of her fur. Tolbert had whacked him and told him he better not, 'cause he wouldn't help him with it if he had to go around screaming _Gold Nugget _every time he had to chase the pup. Bud had found it hilarious and assured Tolbert it was a joke, but it took about five minutes for Tolbert to understand him, as Bud was laughing so hard Tolbert couldn't understand a single word he said.

"Have your namin' skills got any better? Midnight's fine, Missy's fine, but if ya say somethin' like Gold Nugget again—"

"I told ya I wasn't serious," Bud laughed, turning his head toward Tolbert. "I did it jus' t' see what you'd do."

"It wasn't very funny," Tolbert drawled, setting his rifle against the wall.

"Yeah, it was," Bud grinned. "You just ain't got a sense of humor."

* * *

When Bud found Pharmer, it was at the dinner table. Bud had gotten up and walked over to him, bending down and putting his hand up to prevent Tolbert from hearing what he said, as Tolbert sat right across from Pharmer.

"Have ya ever thought 'bout hittin' Tol with a washboard?" Bud whispered, ignoring the strange look Pharmer gave him at first. After a moment, Pharmer burst into laughter, remarking, "Well, I have now!"

The brothers laughed, Bud going back to his spot beside Tolbert.

"What are you two laughin' at?" Ran'l asked, clearly confused by his sons' outburst.

"We jus' imagined Tolbert gettin' hit with a washboard 's all," Bud said innocently, shrugging his shoulders. Tolbert whacked Bud's head, earning another round of rambunctious laughter.

Ran'l looked at Sally, who had laughed at the unexpected answer (that was an answer that no one would expect) and was shaking her head. The former sighed, quietly muttering, "What am I gonna do with you boys?"

* * *

**_January 1882_**

Bud had been sitting on the porch when Tolbert came home. His coat was on over his undershirt, his feet bare as he stared into the night, a relieved expression taking over the concerned one once he spotted Tolbert.

Bud stood and headed back inside, already a little frustrated since Tolbert was about three hours later than he said he'd be. He went upstairs to their room, leaving the door open for his brother, who was more than likely drunk. He took his coat off and draped it over his chest in the corner, lighting a lamp so Tolbert would be able to see.

When Tolbert entered the room, Bud knew instantly that he was drunk. And if Bud hadn't already been frustrated, he probably wouldn't have paid much attention to it. Tolbert came home drunk on multiple occasions, so it wasn't something that was shocking, but he definitely found it to be utterly ridiculous when Tolbert had promised him he wasn't going to be drinking.

"Thought ya said ya wasn't gonna be drinkin' none," Bud drawled while he shut the door.

"I didn't intend to," Tolbert mumbled.

"That right? Well, ya still broke a promise, and I'm still as mad as could be at ya," Bud snapped harshly, his hazel-green eyes ablaze with anger that was swiftly rising.

"Don't be mad." Tolbert shook his head, eyes flicking over to Bud.

"Why wouldn't I be mad, Tolbert?" Bud started to wrestle Tolbert's coat off of him. "Ya told me ya'd be back b'fore ten, that ya wouldn't be drinkin'. Ya _promised me,_ Tol! What happened b'tween here an' Blackberry Creek?"

"Nothin'." Bud threw the coat over Tolbert's chest. "What're you doin'?"

"I took your coat off of ya." Bud took a few steps away from him. "How much did ya drink?"

"I dunno. Few glasses, I think," Tolbert mumbled.

"Well, it's midnight, an' you're drunk, an' I really don't wanna deal with ya right now."

"Why not? I dealt with ya when you were drunk," Tolbert countered, starting to become angry.

"An' I told ya I ain't ever doin' nothin' like that 'gain!"

"But ya did it once! If ya did it once, you'll do it again!"

"Don't you touch me!" Bud screeched, smacking Tolbert's hand away from him. "Don't ya even _think_ about touchin' me!"

"Who are ya? The king of Kentucky?" Tolbert sneered.

"No," Bud growled. "I'm Bud McCoy, your younger brother who's always savin' your hide from Poppy's wrath. But if ya'd like, I can go tell 'im ya came home drunk again."

"No, ya ain't."

"Then for once in your life, Tolbert, _shut up_ and go to bed!"

"No! I ain't tired."

"Well, I am! I've been workin' all day on a busted cart, an' I really don't have time t' be fightin' with you."

"Then don't fight with me," Tolbert shrugged.

Bud's anger seemed to multiply due to the dismissive attitude Tolbert held. He knew that Tolbert was drunk, that he wasn't in his right mind, but it still made him angry. He didn't know what was wrong with him; usually, he could handle Tolbert while he was drunk without getting more than irritated at him.

"You're worse than a child," Bud huffed, pulling his shirt over his head. "An' I hate ya for it."

"Ya don't hate me," Tolbert said exasperatedly. "S' quit lyin'."

"I didn't say I hate _you._ I said I hate ya actin' worse than a child. There's a difference."

"I ain't actin' worse than a child."

"Yes, ya are. Now would ya please let me go t' bed s' I can try t' fix that stupid cart t'morrow?"

"Fine. But ya better not wake me up with 'nother one of them stupid dreams."

"Fine."

* * *

Bud awoke with a gasp, his hand immediately clamping over his mouth. His chest heaved up and down and his eyes flicked around the dark room, spotting his clothes on the floor. He got up and dressed, deciding he'd rather work on the busted cart than risk waking Tolbert.

He went out without his coat, teeth chattering as he rushed to the barn. Once inside, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to find a match. He pulled it out and struck it, lighting the lantern that hung in the barn before taking it off of the nail and moving to the busted cart.

Bud had always hated the dreams he had. There was no way to stop them, no way to know when they would come or when they would stop. They were always something Bud feared, and though he never talked about them, he always had Tolbert to help him calm down. This was the second time he hadn't been there, and Bud knew he shouldn't have paid too much attention to it.

He could feel one of the attacks coming on. His chest was starting to tighten and he became lightheaded, his breathing becoming more labored the longer he thought about the dream. Tears blurred his vision as he sat down, gently setting the lantern down beside him before his hands pulled at his hair, repeatedly telling himself to calm down. The problem was that he couldn't calm down. He'd never had to do it on his own, had never had to find a way to bring himself out of the state of panic he would go into, but now he had to.

He couldn't breathe was the first thing that made it worse. He couldn't breathe, Tolbert had told him not to wake him with another stupid dream, and Bud was sitting in a cold barn in an undershirt and a pair of pants. He was going to catch pneumonia and he was going to die and—

"Bud? Tolbert's lookin' for ya. Where are... oh my God, are you alright?" Pharmer's voice sounded from the door.

"Can't... can't breathe," Bud forced the words out.

"I'll go get Tolbert," Pharmer said quickly before running away from the door.

Bud wished that he could've told Pharmer no, that he didn't need Tolbert. He would get it on his own, however long it might take him. He tried to take in a breath but found that he couldn't, so it was more of a strangled gasp than a breath. Bud's hands clenched the fabric of his shirt, low whimpers escaping through his lips as he struggled to breathe.

Tolbert came racing into the barn, dropping to his knees beside Bud.

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Look _at_ me," Tolbert ordered softly. He gently took hold of Bud's face with one hand, turning it toward him, quickly releasing it afterward. "You're alright, Bud. You're alright. Whatever happened, it ain't nothin'. You're fine, you can breathe, all ya gotta do 's take a breath, ya hear me?"

Bud nodded, focusing on the rise and fall of Tolbert's chest and trying to mimic it. He succeeded after a few attempts, coughing harshly when he took a breath, his head falling onto Tolbert's shoulder as his body sagged with relief.

"Ya alright now?" Tolbert asked, rubbing Bud's shoulder and arm comfortingly. He nodded mutely, still taking deep breaths to try to ease the slight discomfort he felt in his chest. "Why didn't ya wake me?"

"Y' told me not to."

"Bud, don't ya ever do anythin' I tell ya to when I'm drunk. I never mean a word of it."

Bud hummed and scooted closer to Tolbert.

"'M sorry," Bud mumbled, eyelids heavy.

"For what?" Tolbert glanced down at him.

"Makin' ya worry. Pharmer said ya was lookin' for me."

"Don't worry 'bout that. Worry 'bout catchin' pneumonia 'cause ya don't know how t' put a dang shirt on."

Bud chuckled and shoved Tolbert.

"I have a shirt on! It's jus' the one I wear under m' other one."

"It's thin an' you're gonna get sick," Tolbert said while pinching Bud's arm gently. Bud rolled his eyes.

"I ain't gonna get sick."

* * *

Bud stumbled inside, finding Tolbert stacking wood inside the house. Sally and Alifair were seated at the kitchen table mending the clothes that needed to be mended, both glancing up at Bud when he entered the cabin.

"Hey, Bud," Sally smiled.

"Hey, Mama," Bud mumbled.

"Bud?" Tolbert stood and turned around. "Oh my God, what's wrong with ya?"

"Nothin', why?"

"Bud... I don't mean t' offend ya, but ya don't look s' good."

Bud huffed, noticing he was leaning against the wall. He hadn't realized he'd done it, but he didn't care too much to straighten his posture.

"I feel fine," Bud fibbed. In truth, he didn't feel fine. He felt horrible. His head was pounding and he knew he had a fever, but wouldn't admit it to Tolbert.

"Ya've always been a terrible liar," Tolbert pointed out as he crossed the room. Bud closed his eyes when Tolbert put his hand on his forehead, humming at the coldness of Tolbert's hand. It felt nice against his clammy skin. "My God, you're burnin' up."

Bud tried to fight against him as he lifted him in his arms, huffing and placing his head against Tolbert's shoulder.

"I can _walk, _Tolbert."

"I don't think ya'd make it up the stairs."

Bud only grunted in response, eyes closed as he was carried up the stairs. He was placed in bed and covered with a blanket, his hair shoved back off of his forehead.

"I'm gonna go get a cold cloth. Don't move, ya hear me?"

"Yeah, Tol... I hear ya."

"Good," Tolbert smiled softly. "Get some rest."

* * *

Tolbert was worried. Bud's fever had become worse overnight, and during the night, Tolbert had taken the boy's shirt off of him at his request and was more than relieved to see that Bud hadn't been hiding a rash from him. But to be safe, Tolbert sent Jim for Doc Rutherford, the only doctor in the valley.

Bud had started to put up a fight, so Tolbert made a deal with him. He'd stay in bed until Doc Rutherford got there if Tolbert laid down beside him, and Bud had (thankfully) agreed to it.

So that was how Tolbert ended up with Bud lying against him with his head and arm on his chest, the other arm wrapped around Tolbert. Tolbert played with Bud's sweaty mass of curls, earning a hum on contentment.

"That feels nice."

"Ya always have liked it when someone messes with your hair," Tolbert mused, glancing down at his brother. He allowed his mind to drift to unpleasant thoughts, such as what could happen if Bud did catch scarlet fever. His baby brother could lose hearing or sight, or even his life if it wasn't caught in time. He closed his eyes and tried to push the thoughts away.

"Y'know, ya've always been m' favorite," Bud mumbled, his eyelids becoming heavy.

"That right?" Tolbert paused for a second. "Ya've always been my favorite too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Don't really know what I'd do without ya, Bud."

"Why's that?" Bud craned his neck to look up at him.

"Well... Reckon ya don't know jus' how much ya mean t' me. I ain't real good with emotions an' all that, but I do know that I love ya and ya mean more t' me than I care t' admit. You're my baby brother, you're my friend, an' I couldn't ask for a better one. You've always been there for me, even when ya didn't understand what was goin' on. I reckon lots of people thinks you're jus' like me since we're always 'round each other. Don't rightly know how well we'd get along if ya were, but I think ya make a fine person."

"I ain't done nothin' though," Bud murmured.

"Ya've done more than ya think. You've saved my hide more than once," Tolbert chuckled.

"Oh, y' mean the night ya came home s' drunk I had t' help ya up the stairs?"

"That's one occasion, yeah."

Bud giggled and shifted slightly. Tolbert continued to play with Bud's hair.

"Y'know why you're my fav'rite?" Bud asked suddenly, startling Tolbert.

"Can't say I do."

"B'cause ya don't care 'bout my dreams or the attacks. Ya don't care that I cry when I get mad, ya still take what I say seriously. Ya've never made me feel bad over showin' how I feel an' ya taught me t' stand up when I think somethin's wrong an' do somethin' 'bout it, even if it means ya get ridiculed or hurt in the process. 'Cause you've always been there for me, even when I told ya I hated you an' everythin' about ya. Ya took up for me when I beat Calvin up, an' when Miss Franklin threw me outta school... Reckon you could say I wouldn't know what t' do without ya. I really wouldn't, 'cause you're the one person I trust the most an' I always go t' you first. I love ya, Tol."

"I love ya too, Bud."

The brothers fell into a comfortable silence, Bud half-asleep as Tolbert continued to play with his hair.

"Why don't ya go t' sleep?" Tolbert asked after a few moments of watching his brother fight to stay awake.

"'Cause I don't wanna sleep all day," he murmured.

"Ya won't. Sleepin' usually helps ya get better anyways. Now _go t' sleep._"

"Fine."

Bud exhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

"Know somethin'?"

"Hm?" Tolbert looked down at him.

"You was right. I got sick."

Tolbert snorted and continued playing with the boy's hair, shaking his head fondly.

* * *

**_March 1882_**

"Tol, Tol, someone's outside," Bud slapped Tolbert's chest, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Hm? What?" Tolbert jerked awake.

"Someone's outside," Bud hissed, turning his head toward his older brother. "Listen."

Bud flinched when something crashed.

"Oh my God," Tolbert groaned. "C'mon, we're gonna go see who's stupid 'nough t' be messin' 'round here. Don't forget t' grab your gun."

"The rifle or pistol?"

"Think ya'd scare 'em more with the rifle."

"'Kay. Think it's a person an' not a animal?" Bud grabbed his rifle and shoved some bullets in his pocket.

"Well, we're gonna find that out, ain't we?"

"Reckon we are."

The two made their way downstairs, Tolbert grabbing the lantern and lighting it before opening the door. They quietly stepped outside, Bud pulling the door shut with a grimace. It squeaked and Tolbert turned around, a grimace on his face as well.

"The door," Bud whispered.

Tolbert walked down the steps, Bud following close behind so he wasn't left in the dark. With his luck, if he ended up in the dark, he'd trip and set the gun off. That was the last thing they needed, as they were trying to find out who or what was prowling around their home.

Bud gasped and whirled to the right when another crash sounded.

"Found it," Tolbert mumbled lowly.

Bud and Tolbert rounded the corner of the house, finding a man there. He had a scraggly appearance; his hair was long, as was his beard, his skin dirty and his clothes were worn and tattered. The hat he wore was barely what one could call a hat, as it was more a few pieces of scrap cloth thrown together. A Union soldier, from the looks of him, but Bud knew that no one still wore those raggedy uniforms.

"Who are you?" Tolbert spoke up, earning a punch from Bud.

The man, upon realizing he'd been caught, started to run. Bud quickly pulled the hammer back and lifted the rifle to his shoulder, taking aim near the silhouetted figure and pulling the trigger. He gasped when the figure fell down.

"Oh God, did I kill him? I didn't mean to!" Bud looked at Tolbert with wide eyes. Tolbert looked at him, a sadistic grin spreading across his face.

"I b'lieve ya did, Lil Ran'l."

Tolbert's face morphed into Devil Anse's, and the body suddenly appeared at Bud's feet, Tolbert's lifeless eyes staring up at him. Bud's mouth dropped open, and he tried to make a sound, but he couldn't. He'd _killed Tolbert._

Devil Anse began to laugh as Ran'l and Sally ran out onto the porch, demanding to know what happened.

"I-it was an accident! I didn't mean t—_NO!_" Bud screamed as the gun went off again. He knew he only put one bullet in it, so why was it making such havoc? Crimson spots grew on both Ran'l and Sally's white clothes before they too crumbled to the ground. "Nononono, don't die! Y' can't die!"

Bud lifted his head again as Roseanna and Pharmer ran out, Sarah Elizabeth in Roseanna's arms. Bud's eyes widened and before he could say a word, the gun went off three times in his hands. His grip tightened as he screamed, Devil Anse's laughter booming around him. Calvin, Alifair, Jim, Trinnie, and Addie all ran out, looking at Bud with bewilderment.

"What ha—" was all Calvin got out before it went off again. One, two, three, four, _five_ times.

"Oh God!"

Bud dropped the gun in his hands as the laughter grew louder. Several people stepped out of the shadows, all cackling evilly. Bud recognized them to be Hatfields; Bad Jim, Wall, Ellison, Elias, Cap, and Johnse, to be exact. Bud took a step back, only to stumble and fall to the ground.

"Tell me, Bud McCoy," Devil Anse drawled as he neared him, pulling a pistol out of its holster. A snarl appeared on Devil Anse's face and the man's eyes became red as he said, "Are ya ready t' meet your maker?"

* * *

Bud awoke with a scream, a hand reaching out and grasping his arm. Bud, in his blind panic, swatted it away and paid no attention to what was going on around him, hitting at the figure in the corner of his eye.

"Woah, hey! It's me!" Tolbert's voice pierced the seemingly endless silence that had surrounded Bud.

Bud stopped fighting, turning toward Tolbert and scooting closer to him. He placed his head on Tolbert's chest, hearing his steady heartbeat. His right arm laid on Tolbert's torso, his left wrapped around Tolbert.

"Ever had a dream s' real it scares ya? But then somethin' impossible happens an' ya know logically that it can't be real, but ya can't wake up?"

"I don't think so..."

"'S horr'ble. Don't ever wanna see anythin' like that 'gain," Bud mumbled.

"Ya wanna talk 'bout it?" Tolbert asked softly, rubbing Bud's shoulder.

"Well... not, not really," Bud stuttered. "This one's worse than all the others I've had, though. Don't care t' tell ya that. I ain't ever woke up screamin' before."

"Yeah, ya have," Tolbert countered. "Ya jus' don't remember it 'cause you was a baby."

Bud hit Tolbert, who was chuckling lightly.

"That ain't funny," Bud grumbled.

"Yeah, it is," Tolbert grinned cheekily. "Ya jus' don't have a sense of humor."

Bud sniffed and swallowed thickly, fighting to keep his tears at bay. He closed his eyes and listened to the steady rhythm of Tolbert's heart, a quiet whimper passing through his lips.

"Ya know ya can cry, Bud."

"I don't want to," he said a little forcefully, his voice shaking.

"Sometimes it's best to," Tolbert countered, his voice still soft as he spoke to him.

"'M fine. Don't need t' cry."

"Alright."

The two laid in silence for a while, Bud continuously thinking about the dream. He tried to push it away, only to have it come back worse than before. He'd killed every member of his family, including Sarah Elizabeth, who was already dead. He didn't understand how that could be, or how _anything_ in that dream could have possibly happened, but it still scared him out of his wits.

Tolbert drifted back to sleep, snoring quietly. Bud didn't mind it nearly as much as he usually did since it assured him that Tolbert was alive and breathing and it had all been a terrible dream. Everyone — save for Sarah Elizabeth — was alive. It was enough to eventually lull Bud to sleep.

* * *

When he awoke later that morning, the first thing he noticed was that Tolbert was gone.

Panic seized him and he hurried to get dressed, running down the stairs while tucking his shirt in. He was relieved to find everyone at the table, and took his spot next to Tolbert, who patted his shoulder once he'd sit down.

"Y' a'ight?" Tolbert murmured quietly. Bud nodded. He was fine.

Tolbert didn't necessarily believe him, but he didn't say anything else on the subject.

Breakfast went by smoothly, and Bud slowly calmed down, interacting with each member of the family while they ate. And when Tolbert threatened to slap Calvin with their mother's frying pan (which was an idea she shot down quickly), the entire room burst into laughter, knowing that if Calvin kept on with his insults to Tolbert, he really would get slapped with a frying pan. That is, unless Sally, Ran'l, or Bud intervened.

"A'ight, Tol, don't kill him," Bud chortled, raising his cup of coffee to his lips. "Despite always causin' trouble, we do need him. It's plantin' season."

"Oh yeah. If we kill 'im, we have t' pick up the slack that causes, don't we?"

"'Deed we do."

"Well, I reckon ya can live then, Calvin."

* * *

**_April 1882_**

Tolbert sighed as he slipped into the barn. Glancing at his cart, he saw that not a single bottle or jar of moonshine was missing, so he was thankful for that at least. He stepped up on the ladder, climbing into the hayloft and looking around.

"Bud? Bud, ya up here?"

He only received silence as a response. Tolbert sighed and moved toward the hay bales Bud always hid behind.

"Bud? C'mon, it ain't funny no more."

Tolbert stopped when he spotted Bud. He was sound asleep, slouching against the wall with his head leaning against it. One arm was thrown across his middle, the other lying limply on the floor.

Deciding not to wake him — since Tolbert knew Bud hadn't slept for five days — Tolbert bent over and gently pulled Bud away from the wall, just so he could get the boy over his shoulder. Bud whined in his sleep, but didn't wake, much to Tolbert's relief, and stood up, heading for the ladder.

He kept one arm wrapped around Bud, using his free hand to grip the ladder as he stepped down rung by rung, his heart thundering in his chest each time he felt his foot might slip.

Sighing with relief once he'd gotten to the bottom, Tolbert set Bud on his feet, wrapping one of Bud's arms around his neck before picking him up again. He carried Bud inside, stopping as he looked at Sally, who smiled lightly.

"He ain't drunk?"

"Nah. Just ain't slept in five days an' it's finally caught up with him," Tolbert replied.

"Why ain't he slept?"

"Dunno. He ain't said nothin' an' I ain't asked yet. Had planned on doin' that when I found him, but... well, y' can see why I ain't."

"Go put him t' bed," Sally ordered softly.

Tolbert went upstairs, entering the room he and Bud shared. He laid him on the bed, covering the boy with the blanket.

"You're gonna be the death of me," Tolbert grumbled under his breath, gazing at his younger brother for a moment. He noticed that the boy hadn't changed his shirt the five — well, technically six — days he hadn't slept. Tolbert sighed and wrestled it off of him, knowing that their mother and sister would probably have a fit if he told them Bud hadn't changed his shirt for three days.

Despite being poor, Sally was adamant about her family having nice clothes to wear. They did have worn, beat-up clothes to wear during harvest, but that was only for working in the fields and never out in public. Bud had about two or three good shirts to wear, had no real reason not to wear them, as they were tucked safely in his chest in the corner. It confused Tolbert, but seeing Bud's overall appearance, he kind of understood.

He was a little paler than usual with dark circles under his eyes. If Tolbert didn't know any better, he would've sworn the boy had both of his eyes blackened for him. And if Tolbert had one hundred dollars, he would've bet that most people would think the boy was sickly just by looking at him.

Tolbert sighed and shook his head before leaving the room. Bud would sleep until morning, then he'd be back to normal. Tolbert wished he wasn't used to Bud's spontaneous spells of not sleeping for days and then falling asleep in a random place, but he figured it was one thing that wouldn't ever change.

* * *

**_July 1882_**

The celebration for Independence Day was something that Bud looked forward to every year. It was like a festival, where for a single day, there was no feud.

"Bud, I swear, ya get excited over this ev'ry year."

"I know."

"Didn't say there was anythin' wrong with that. I think I'd rather have ya excited over this than have ya drinkin' in the hayloft."

"Oh, ain't ya ever gonna let that go?" Bud groaned, his face reddening.

"Nope," Tolbert smirked, earning another groan from the boy.

* * *

"Bud!"

Bud turned around, seeing Trinnie run up to him, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Yeah?" Bud quirked a brow, looking down at his little sister.

"I ripped m' dress an' I don't know what t' do," she blurted.

Bud sighed and took his shirt off, handing it to her.

"What? No. No, I don't—my God, Bud, what'll they say 'bout ya?"

"Don't know an' don't really care. I can handle whatever they say 'bout me. _Take it._"

"Bud," Trinnie shot him a look. "I ain't gonna take your shirt from ya."

"Ya ain't takin' it if I'm givin' it to ya. Your dress is ripped, Trinnie. Take the shirt and put it on," Bud shot her a stern look. He was older than her, after all. She huffed and took it out of his hand, swiftly pulling it on.

"Ya would have t' be a giant," Trinnie grumbled while struggling to fix the sleeves. Bud rolled his eyes and fixed them for her, rolling them up to her forearms. "Thank ya, Bud."

"You're welcome. I'd rather ya wear my shirt an' hide that tear then worry 'bout what people's gonna say 'bout me while ya run around with your hand holdin' ya dress."

Trinnie smacked his chest, a scowl on her face. Bud snorted, taking a step back as she went to hit him again.

"Shut up," she huffed.

"A'ight. I'm gonna go over t' Tolbert's cart for a while. Let me know if ya need anythin' else."

"Alright. Thanks, Bud."

"You're welcome."

* * *

Bud stood by Tolbert's cart, arms crossed over his chest. The women who Bud referred to as the gossiping busybodies walked by, staring at the boy as though they'd never seen him before. Bud knew they were only gawking because he hadn't worn his undershirt (he'd torn it the day before and their mother had it with the laundry), so it didn't bother him nearly as much as it should have.

"Shameless," Mrs. White remarked. "Simply _shameless._"

Tolbert could see the way Bud shifted uncomfortably, even though he'd told Tolbert repeatedly that he was just fine and didn't care what they said.

"Maybe there's a reason," the younger one spoke up.

"An' maybe there ain't," another ridiculed.

"Awful nice of y' t' give Trinnie yer shirt, Bud," Tolbert spoke, giving Bud a look.

"She needed it," Bud shrugged lightly. "Jus' wish I wouldn't've forgot my coat."

"Where's the shirt ya usually wear under your other one?"

"In the laundry. Mama's gotta mend it. Ripped straight up the back yesterday after gettin' caught on the fence."

"My Lord, only you could rip your shirt by gettin' caught on the fence."

"It ain't my fault!" Bud protested. "If I'd known it was that bad I woulda told Mama last night. I wore it t' bed s' when I went downstairs t' find my shirt, Mama told me plain that I wa'n't wearin' it."

"Shameless," Mrs. White's voice pierced the conversation between the brothers. "Positively shameless."

Tolbert rolled his eyes.

"Still, I think it was nice of ya t' let Trinnie have your shirt."

"Reckon so," Bud hummed. "Kinda forgot I didn't have the shirt I usually wear under it on, though."

Tolbert laughed, shaking his head at the way Bud dismissively spoke about it.

"Don't it bother ya?"

"If it saves Trinnie from bein' humiliated, no," Bud answered honestly. "I don't mind bein' the one that's talked about if Trinnie ain't bein' ridiculed an' called shameless."

"What'd she go t' you for?" Tolbert asked, tilting his head a little.

"Reckon I was the first person she found," Bud shrugged. "Can't say I'm complainin' though. 'S hot t'day."

Tolbert snorted, shaking his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the women leave, gossiping among themselves. Bud looked at Tolbert, lips pursed before asking, "Ya think they'll tell Mama n Poppy?"

* * *

Sally approached Bud, who had his back to her, a shirt in her hands. She hadn't had much money, but she'd had enough to buy her son a shirt from one of the vendors since he'd given Trinnie his to hide a tear.

"Bud, darlin'," Sally spoke up, gaining the boy's attention. "I gotcha a shirt s' ya don't have t' sit 'round without one. Ya look a bit uncomfortable."

"Why thank ya, Mama. Y' didn't have t' do that," Bud said gratefully, taking the blue shirt out of Sally's outstretched hand. "I was fine without one."

"I'm tired of hearin' these people talkin' 'bout ya. Yer a good boy, couldn't ask for a better son. They don't care 'nough t' find out why ya ain't got no shirt on. They jus' find a reason t' talk an' that's what they do."

"Shouldn't pay 'tention t' what they say, Mama. They say I'm jus' like Tolbert too."

"I know they do," Sally nodded slightly. "I've heard ev'ry word they've said 'bout you an' Tolbert an' the rest. Don't approve of it but yer Poppy always says 's best t' ignore 'em an' go on."

"Well... I did 'til February," Bud admitted while rubbing the back of his neck. "They was talkin' bad 'bout Roseanna, s' I told 'em they was wrong."

"Ya took up for Tolbert too, 's what I heard," Sally smiled lightly.

"Yeah. They act like he's nothin' but rude an' mad all the time. There's reasons Tolbert gets mad like everyone else. He jus' happens t' get madder than we do."

Sally laughed and nodded. Bud's words were true.

"Well, now that ya won't be the topic of the gossip goin' 'round the grounds, I think I'll go find your Poppy."

"Alright, Mama," Bud smiled at her.

* * *

**_August 1882_**

Bud always loved Election Day celebrations. He'd go with Tolbert and roam around the fairgrounds, sometimes with Tolbert and sometimes alone. The two would playfully bicker on the way there and while he helped Tolbert set up his cart to sell 'shine for the day, but it was never anything more than a few insults to each other. (Usually one that was something like: "Ya smell an' look like a filthy Hatfield. Don't ya ever bathe?")

On this Election Day, Bud was the first one to wake. He got up and dressed, putting on his white shirt and a pair of brown pants before pulling on his boots. He grabbed his switchblade and stuffed it in his pocket, sliding his suspenders up on his shoulders before grabbing his vest and pulling it on. He left it unbuttoned and grabbed his hat and coat, laying them on the foot of the bed before moving up next to Tolbert and poking him.

"Tolbert," he whispered, poking his cheek. "_Tolbert._"

"Mmm... Whaddaya want?" Tolbert grumbled, lazily swatting at Bud's hand.

"C'mon, get up! 'S Election Day," Bud beamed. Tolbert cracked a single eye open, staring straight at Bud, who had crouched down beside the bed.

"I don't care _what _day it is, I want t' sleep."

"If ya load yer moonshine now ya won't have t' do it later," Bud countered. "Ya wouldn't have t' rush at breakfast."

Knowing that he either had to get up or tolerate Bud pestering him until he decided to get up, Tolbert sighed, a single ice-blue iris gazing at Bud, who had a childlike look filled with innocence on his face. Tolbert groaned.

"God, I hate it when ya look at me like that," he shoved his face into his pillow. "Gimme five minutes."

* * *

Bud tapped his foot while sitting in the back of the cart, a tangled rope on his lap. His brows were furrowed in concentration while he worked to untangle it, huffing as he pulled at one piece, only to make the knot worse.

"Dagnabit," he hissed, pulling at another.

"Hey! Try this," Tolbert said as he approached him.

"Try wha—mph!" Bud looked up when something was put in his mouth, his eyes wide. He ate whatever it was (something sweet that was delicious) before asking, "What's the matter with you? Ya crazy or somethin'?"

"No. Jus' knew ya wouldn't look at me _and _I wanted ya t' try that. 'S good, ain't it?"

Bud nodded, muttering, "Yeah. 'S good. What is it?"

"Don't know. Bought it off one of the ladies over there," Tolbert pointed in the general direction where he'd found it. "Since you're one that likes all that sweet stuff, I figured you'd like it too."

"Well, thank ya."

Tolbert nodded, catching a bottle from Squirrel Huntin' Sam.

"Fill it."

"Well, gee, Squirrel. I thought ya wanted him t' break it," Bud quipped, earning a glare from their cousin.

"That ain't funny, Randolph."

Tolbert let out a huff of amusement, shaking his head at the banter. Bud always had the tendency to make witty remarks that unintentionally started fights, which Tolbert usually had to break up. Bud had his nose broken by Paris once due to a harmless remark he made. Paris had taken it as an insult and had punched Bud straight in the nose as hard as he could, breaking the bone. Tolbert had been across the field and had run to pull Paris away from Bud, who had covered his nose and had unshed tears in his eyes. After sorting out the whole thing, he'd taken him to Doc Rutherford so he could clean and set it.

Now though, watching Bud playfully banter with Squirrel, who was bound to get insulted soon, it was nothing short of amusing.

"Don't drink too much. Can't have ya losin' that shootin' contest t' Calvin."

"Why you little—"

"Hey, that's enough! He don't mean no harm," Tolbert smacked Squirrel's chest with the full bottle. "He's jus' teasin', ain't tryin' t' start no trouble."

Squirrel paid Tolbert what he owed and left, leaving the two brothers alone again.

"Y'know, I'm convinced that mouth o' yers is gonna be yer biggest trouble in life."

"Oh, like ya have any room t' talk, Tolbert," Bud snorted. "You're worse than me!"

"Wish I could say that ain't true," Tolbert chuckled, sitting on the edge of the cart. He had turned with his back against the barrel, one leg propped up on the edge, the other against the wheel. "Whatcha doin' anyways?"

"Tryin' t' straighten this out," Bud responded.

"Why don't ya wait 'til we get home? Ya usually don't jus' stay here durin' the Election festival."

"A'ight. I'm gonna go find the popcorn. Y' want any?" Bud asked as he hopped out of the cart.

"Nah, not right now," Tolbert declined. "Jus' don't get in any trouble!" He called after Bud's retreating figure. He could hear Bud laugh as he turned back.

"Thought I was s'pposed t' tell you that."

* * *

Bud smiled as he approached Tolbert, holding his cone of popcorn out toward him. Tolbert rolled his eyes and took a few pieces, just to appease the boy that was obviously still a child.

"Y' think somethin's gonna happen t'day?" Bud asked while leaning against the cart beside Tolbert.

"Nah," Tolbert shook his head. "Don't think much is gonna happen t'day. Poppy an' Hatfield might pass each other, but nothin' more than that."

"Y' sure?"

"Somethin' botherin' ya, Buddy?" Tolbert asked, taking another piece of popcorn.

"No. Jus'... somethin's gonna happen. Ya know how ya sometimes get a feelin' somethin's gonna happen? I got it."

"Don't worry none," Tolbert patted his shoulder. "It usually amounts t' nothin'."

"I pray yer right, Tol."

* * *

"Hey, Buddy!"

Bud whipped around to face Pharmer, who had a sly grin on his face.

"Ya ever think 'bout hittin' Tolbert with a crate of his moonshine?"

Bud burst into laughter, shaking his head.

"Still ain't as good as a washboard, Pharmer."

Pharmer laughed and nodded in agreement.

"I have t' agree that's one of the best things you've ever come up with."

"Why thank ya," Bud chortled, slinging an arm around Pharmer's shoulders.

"Ya welcome," Pharmer muttered. "I think Tolbert should let ya hit him with a washboard, jus' t' see if it'd be as funny as we think it would be."

"Like he's gonna let me do that," Bud scoffed, rolling his eyes. "He'd kill me b'fore I had it raised over my head."

"I still think ya should ask him."

"Pharmer, you ask him and see what he says."

"Alright, I will!" Pharmer nodded.

Bud shook his head and followed Pharmer back to the cart, passing the shooting contest Calvin, Paris, and Squirrel Huntin' Sam was in. Pharmer approached Tolbert and tapped his shoulder, making the older boy turn around.

"What?" Tolbert asked, noticing a snickering Bud behind Pharmer.

"Would ya let Bud hit ya with a washboard t' see if it's as funny as we think it is?"

Tolbert stared at him, opening and closing his mouth for a moment, flabbergasted by the question. His eyes flicked to Bud, who was rolling with laughter, before looking back at Pharmer.

"D'ya think I'm an idiot or somethin'? I ain't lettin' that child over there hit me with a washboard fer yer amusement."

"Hey!" Bud shouted indignantly. "I ain't a child!"

"Yer underage," Tolbert retorted, earning a scowl and huff from Bud. "Don't take offense, Bud! If anythin' it's a good thing."

"How ya figure?"

"Well... ya could still go t' school if ya wanted. Doubt Poppy would protest much."

"Can't do that," Bud shook his head. "Miss Franklin's still teachin'."

"Thought she moved back t' the city."

"Oh, she was fixin' to. She found out the man she loved had married some rich girl an' decided not to."

"Oh."

"Anyways," Bud mumbled, moving forward so he wasn't in the way of the people who were wandering the grounds. "Would ya let Pharmer hit ya with a washboard?"

"No!"

* * *

Bud was at a loss. He and his brothers had gotten into some trouble; some really _bad _trouble. It had started as a simple fight that had escalated into something more. Ellison Hatfield had been left with stab wounds and a gunshot wound, and now... well, now Bud was absolutely terrified.

He hadn't participated in anything but the fight. He'd thrown a few punches, but more damage was done to him than he'd done to Ellison. His brothers had started stabbing him, and Pharmer shot him while he stared at the knife that Squirrel had tossed to him. He'd fallen after Ellison had busted his nose with his elbow (at least, Bud hoped that was all the damage done to it) and had just gotten back on his feet after his cousin gave him the knife and told him to stick Ellison. After hearing the gunshot, both he and Tolbert looked mortified before taking off in the direction of the nearby woods.

While they ran, they could hear the shouts of the Hatfield clan. Bud didn't really know why he was running; he'd thrown a few punches and Ellison had hurt him more than the boy had hurt him. All he knew was that he was following close behind Tolbert and he was caught on a tree. He wrenched himself free and kept going, running into Tolbert's shoulder as he emerged from the woods. Pharmer was right behind him, doing the exact same thing that he'd done to Tolbert, his hand clamping onto Bud's shoulder to catch his balance.

They looked around, seeing they were surrounded by men both on horseback and foot.

"Tol," Bud whined, trying to find a way to get out of the mess they were in.

"'S fine, Bud," Tolbert assured him. "It's Sheriff Maynard an' his men. They won't do us no harm."

"Y' sure? We right near done murder," Bud threw his hand onto Tolbert's shoulder when he lost his balance.

"No. _You _didn't do more than throw a punch or two an' try t' get him off of me. That's all you did, Bud."

Bud stood equally close to both of his brothers as the sheriff and his men approached. They were placed under arrest and led back toward Pikeville, where they'd be locked in a jail cell.

Tolbert had no doubt they'd be there a long time, as either way it went, a trial would have to be arranged. He supposed that bail was always a hope, but would they allow bail for a case like the one they'd created? What was their case, anyway? Ellison was still alive, so, therefore, it couldn't be murder. But if he died, it could be tried as murder, and Tolbert knew that his seventeen-year-old innocent brother would hang for a crime he didn't do.

The mere thought made a shiver run down Tolbert's spine. He doubted Bud had even thought of it, glancing at the boy. He looked so frightened and innocent that it made Tolbert want to scream. Bud had done nothing, but he had no doubt that "witnesses" would say that he had, so what was the good in trying to get him out of it? Bud was still underage, perhaps they'd be more lenient on him.

"Oh no," Sheriff Maynard groaned. "Stop right up here, boys. Don't want ya gettin' too close to 'em."

Tolbert, Pharmer, and Bud all stopped at the same time. Bud glanced nervously at Tolbert, who didn't seem very bothered by the armed Hatfields in front of them. There had to be at least twenty, Bud thought as his eyes flicked about, not daring to meet any of their eyes. He could see Cap Hatfield and Johnse, and he was pretty sure Bad Jim was involved as well. Wall and Devil Anse led the charge, Elias by their side.

While Devil Anse, Wall, and Sheriff Maynard exchanged words, Bud started to wish he'd taken off sooner. If he would have started running just a few seconds sooner, they might've been able to escape. Seeing Skunk Hair and a few others advance toward them, Bud did as he was told and went with whoever grabbed his arm roughly. He started to jerk his arm out of their grasp, but upon realizing it would probably get him shot, he left well enough alone and walked on.

* * *

They had been in the barn on Devil Anse's property before they moved them to an abandoned schoolhouse on Mate Creek. Johnse had set Pharmer's arm in a sling with a brace that he'd made, although once he'd set it, he left without so much as a word. Tolbert, while in the barn, had persuaded one of the Hatfields to give him a glass of water. He used it to clean the blood off of Bud's face.

Now in a schoolhouse, as twilight began to set in, Bud sat in a corner by himself. He picked at a loose string on his shirt, his heart thundering against his rib cage while he waited. What he was waiting for, he honestly didn't know, but he knew he was waiting for _something._

"Bud?" Tolbert sat down beside him. "Ya alright?" Bud nodded mutely. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin' really," he uttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Bud leaned his head back against the wall, tilting it slightly toward Tolbert. "Ya think he'll live, Tolbert?"

"I don't really know," Tolbert answered, looking at his younger brother. Bud turned his head the other way, a bitter chuckle passing through his lips.

"Oh, it don't matter," he said, all emotion draining from his voice. "They're gonna kill us anyway!"

"Bud!" Tolbert chastised, smacking the boy's arm gently. "Don't go sayin' things like that. We're gonna live."

"Yeah? I'd like t' see how, seein' as Jim Vance wants all of us dead," Bud retorted, his eyes focused on the door. "Ain't got no chance of escapin' neither. They got this place swarmin' with armed Hatfields."

"Bud, ya listen t' me, alright? We're gonna be fine. Poppy's gonna—"

"Poppy ain't gonna do squat," Bud snapped harshly, his head whipping back toward Tolbert. "He _can't. _He don't know where we are!"

Tolbert sighed and threw an arm around Bud's shoulders.

"I don't think ya feel that way at all, Buddy. I think yer scared and yer tryin' t' hide it."

"No, I ain't," Bud denied quickly, moving away from Tolbert.

"Yeah, ya are." Tolbert stood up, moving over to one of the windows. "Yer scared as sure as I'm alive."

"Ya don't know everythin'!" Bud stood up. "It's all your fault anyways! If ya hadn't started that fight with Elias, Ellison never woulda got involved!"

"Don't ya even go there, Bud," Tolbert growled.

"It's true! Then ya had t' swing at Ellison an' start another fight! Now we're gonna get killed b'cause of you, you moron! An' you!" He whirled and pointed at Pharmer, who sat at a table. "Ya jus' had t' shoot him! Ya started stabbin' him, then this moron over here joined in, and then ya shot him! _What's wrong with you?!_"

"Bud, jus'... jus' calm down," Pharmer stuttered, knowing that if it kept up much longer, Bud and Tolbert would be going after each other's throats.

"Why should I? Listenin' t' you is what got me int' this mess!"

"Bud, I swear, ya better shut your mouth—"

"Or what? Ya ain't gonna do nothin' t' me! Ya never have! An' now ya ain't gonna have the chance to, because we're all gonna be shot full of lead pretty soon!"

"_Bud!_" Pharmer exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise at the boy's words.

"Well, you're the one that joined in the fight, Bud," Tolbert spat.

"I only did it 'cause he was hurtin' you! I thought he'd end up killin' you so I joined in. I never sticked him or shot him! _You _did!" He poked Tolbert's chest roughly, making the older boy move backward slightly.

"Don't ya sit around an' act all innocent! If I recall correctly, _you _are the one who punched Ellison across the face. Ya tried gettin' him off me when I was stickin' him, too!"

"Tolbert—"

"Shut up, Pharmer!"

Pharmer kept quiet, watching his two brothers as they argued, a tense silence sweeping over the room for a few seconds.

"If I'd thought you were gonna get me killed, I wouldn't have!" Bud screamed, shoving Tolbert away from him. Tolbert stumbled into the wall with a grunt, his blue eyes becoming so cold Pharmer looked away for a moment, fearing what might happen.

"I had no intention of gettin' you killed, Bud. Wouldn't mind it very much right now though."

"_Tolbert!_" Pharmer piped up. "Y' know he's jus' tryin' t' hide how scared he is! Don't tell 'im anythin' like that!"

"That's jus' fine, Tolbert, 'cause I hate you! I hate you more than ya know! I don't care if ya kill me!"

"Bud, ya don't mean that," Pharmer shook his head, standing and rounding the corner of the table.

"Yes, I do! I mean every word of it! I hate you!"

He lunged at Tolbert, who caught him by his wrists and pulled him into a tight embrace, not letting the boy break free. Bud fought as a sob fell from his lips, screeching, "Let me go! Let me go!_ I hate you!_"

"That's all well an' good, Bud, but I ain't gonna let ya end up hurtin' yourself."

Bud sobbed, quitting his fighting as he leaned against Tolbert. It was as if the boy just gave up completely at that moment, wrapping his arms around Tolbert with head laying in the spot where Tolbert's neck and shoulder met. Tolbert held him, letting him cry.

* * *

Tolbert and Bud sat against the wall, Bud clinging to Tolbert. Pharmer had sat down about an hour or two ago and had dozed off and was now sleeping peacefully. Tolbert believed that Bud was sleeping as well, as the boy hadn't moved for quite some time.

"Tolbert... d'ya hate me after what I did?" he rasped, startling Tolbert.

"No, Buddy. I don't hate ya at all," Tolbert rubbed Bud's shoulder, looking down at him.

"How can ya not?" Bud sniffled.

"B'cause I know you. I know when ya mean somethin' an' when ya don't."

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, a few tears rolling down his face. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Buddy," Tolbert assured him.

"I jus' don't wanna die," Bud mumbled while lifting his head so he could wipe the tears away.

"I know." After a moment, Tolbert added, "Neither do I."

Bud laid with his head on Tolbert's chest, his arms wrapped around his middle.

"Why'd ya do it?" Bud whispered.

"Well... be honest with ya, I don't really know. And it scares me that I don't know. All I r'member is after he hurt ya... I stabbed him a little harder than I should've."

"Shouldn't-a stabbed him at all."

"I know. Think God'll forgive that?"

"He forgives everythin', Tol, s' long as ya mean it when ya r'pent."

"Even murder when ya don't know why ya did it?"

"Yeah. I b'lieve so. Ya ain't ever done nothin' like this b'fore."

"Thank God for that," Tolbert breathed.

"Ya didn't intend t' kill Johnse that night we captured him. Ya woulda jus' scared 'im real good and left him with a bullet wound like ya did b'fore that."

"Maybe so," Tolbert muttered, not mentioning that he'd actually held a pistol in point-blank range aimed at Johnse's head. "Why don't ya get some sleep? It'll do ya good."

"Sleep? With armed Hatfields right outside the door? Have ya finally lost yer mind, Tolbert McCoy?"

"No. I just know that if you don't sleep, we're likely t' have another episode like the one we had t'day. Yer so hateful when ya don't sleep."

"Am not," Bud grumbled, shifting slightly. "I love you, Tolbert. I'm sorry for ev'rythin' I said earlier. I didn't mean a word of it and I love ya, not hate ya."

"I know, Bud. I'm sorry for what I said t' ya. Reckon I shouldn't've lost my temper. Love ya too."

* * *

Tolbert woke up to Bud whimpering in his sleep. He pulled the boy closer, keeping both arms wrapped around him as he slowly started to wake up. Tolbert had lived with Bud long enough to know the signs of the attacks he sometimes had, and if he knew his little brother, he was going to have one the instant he woke up.

"Tol..." he trailed off, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"You're alright. Nothin's happenin', it's alright," he assured him, rubbing Bud's back comfortingly. "Just breathe, Bud."

Surprisingly, it didn't take long to get him to calm down, much to Tolbert's relief. The attacks had never bothered Tolbert; Lord knows that Tolbert never cared to help Bud calm down, but he always hated to see the way he struggled to breathe. And more often than not, Tolbert had been the reason for those attacks, and he hated that he had such a big mouth.

"Do ya ever get tired of 'em?" Bud asked quietly.

"Tired of what?" Tolbert looked down at him, finding that he was looking up at him.

"The dreams... the attacks... all of it."

"No. Hate that ya go through 'em, but I don't mind ya wakin' me up for either one. I'm here for ya, Buddy, whether it be ya jus' have a dream or ya do somethin' so incredibly stupid ya can't get yourself out of the mess ya made."

"Why're you usin' that name again? Ya ain't called me that in years."

"Reckon I jus' forgot about it. Ya don't mind it, do ya?"

"No, no I don't mind," Bud murmured. "Just curious, I reckon."

"And as for the why? Well, can't really say. I guess it died for a few years and now it's back," Tolbert spoke softly. "I think ya were three when I first started callin' you Buddy. Ya didn't call me anythin' but Tol'ert then 'cause ya couldn't say my name right."

Bud giggled sleepily, listening to Tolbert as he spoke.

"I remember a time when you was nearly two. I had ya after Sunday meetin', walkin' 'round the churchyard while Mama an' Poppy talked with the neighbors an' such, an' I was carryin' ya 'round. Ya was pointin' at somethin' when the church women started talkin', sayin' I was gonna do harm t' ya an' I wouldn't be nothin' but a bad influence on ya. Well... I believed 'em. For a week I avoided ya, only t' have Mama leave you in my care while she went t' Mrs. White's. Ya ended up sittin' on my lap an' fallin' asleep. I tried not t' touch you, I was convinced I'd hurt ya if I did, s' I tried t' stay away. But ya had my hand, and I couldn't get it 'way from ya. Mama talked some sense into me after she came home, but I can remember that as if it happened yesterday."

"Sounds interestin'," Bud hummed.

"Then there was the time I took ya out an' ya ran smack into a tree."

"When was that?" Bud shifted and gazed up at Tolbert.

"Let's see... I do believe you were 'round four then. Maybe a little younger or older."

"Oh."

Tolbert huffed a breathless laugh.

"Ya remember that one Christmas you was sick? Ya scared me half t' death that year. You had a real bad fever an' it wouldn't break. I was sure ya had the scarlet when it finally broke."

"Purdy sure I was worse when I was drunk," Bud mumbled groggily.

"Only a little."

Tolbert, who had been trying to get the boy to go back to sleep, began to play with his hair. Bud hummed and his eyes fluttered closed for a second.

"That feels nice."

Tolbert kept on playing with Bud's thick locks of brunette hair, watching him as he fought to stay awake. Tolbert always knew when Bud was scared, and if it hadn't been for the fact you could feel the fear rolling off of him in waves, Tolbert would have told you that Bud's eyes always have him away. He could have his face set in the calmest expression, but his eyes would be shining with fear.

"Why don't ya get some sleep, Bud?"

"Don't wanna. Scared somethin' might happen."

"Nothin's gonna happen, Buddy. And if it does, I'll wake ya. Alright?"

"Alright," Bud agreed.

* * *

Tolbert didn't sleep any more that night. By the time the sun rose high in the sky, he wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, his baby brother tucked against his side while he played with his hair.

Pharmer awoke sometime while the sun was rising, grumbling to himself and moving next to Tolbert.

"He alright?" he asked softly, being careful not to wake Bud.

"Scared, but he's a'ight."

Pharmer nodded slightly, his eyes flicking over to Bud, who slept peacefully.

"He always have them dreams?"

"Not always," Tolbert answered with a sigh. "There's times he won't have 'em for months and they jus' come back all at once worse than they were before. That's usually all I can get out of 'im when he does have 'em."

"Won't he tell ya?"

"Nope. Don't force him t' tell me neither. If he wants to, he will."

"Reckon that's best. You're Bud's favorite out of all of us," Pharmer smiled slightly. "Always have been too."

"You jus' tryin' t' get me t' say who my fav'rite is?" Tolbert asked good-naturedly, turning his head toward Pharmer.

"Nah, I already know. 'S Bud." Tolbert blinked in surprise. "Ain't hard t' figure that out, Tol. You two are s' close it's impossible t' separate ya."

"Maybe we shouldn't be," Tolbert said thoughtfully. "If we wasn't, he wouldn't be here now. He'd be at home with Mama an' the rest, goin' 'bout his day. He shouldn't be here. My God, he's still a _child._"

"I know," Pharmer sighed. With a twinge of hope laced in his voice, he said, "Maybe they'll let him go."

"Why would they do that?" Tolbert chuckled bitterly, wiping at his eyes. "Hatfields ain't gonna do nothin' but kill as many of us as they can."

"He's innocent. If we could just _prove it _they might let 'im go."

"So he can go tell Poppy an' the rest where we are? Nah. They'd let him think he was gettin' out alive then shoot him in the back like the cowards they are. They won't let him live any more than they'll let us."

"Reckon you're right."

Bud stirred but didn't wake. His hand curled into a fist, clenching the fabric of Tolbert's shirt. Tolbert glanced at him, a ghost of a smile flicking across his face.

"Reckon that's his way of tellin' us t' shut up?"

* * *

Bud had woken up about ten minutes ago. He hadn't moved, and he still leaned against Tolbert, who had started to play with his hair again. Bud had the suspicion that Tolbert knew he was awake, even if he hadn't addressed him. Bud felt safe curled up next to Tolbert; like nothing in the world could even touch him so long as he had his older brother by his side.

Bud had always felt safe with Tolbert. Ever since he was a little boy, Tolbert had been there for him and he had protected him from anything and everything that came their way.

"He's awake, Tolbert," Pharmer spoke up after a moment. Tolbert turned his head toward Pharmer.

"I know he is." Pharmer shot Tolbert a concerned look before his gaze fixed on Bud.

"Bud? Bud, ya alright?"

"Mhm," Bud hummed, still not moving.

"What're ya doin'?"

"Nothin'."

"Sleep well?" Tolbert queried, eyes flicking down to his younger brother.

"Mhm."

"You gonna tell me what's wrong wit'cha?"

"Ain't nothin' wrong with me. Jus' don't wanna move yet." After a few seconds, he quietly asked, "Ellison still alive?"

"Far as we know he is," Tolbert answered. "Don't ya be worryin' 'bout that."

"Kinda hard not to when it's all I can think about."

"No matter what way this goes, we're gonna be fine. We're gonna be jus' fine, ya hear?"

"Yeah, Tol, I hear ya. Don't really see how it's gonna be fine though."

"Have some faith, Buddy. Don't ya give up yet."

Bud exhaled deeply, raising his right hand and wiping his eye. He hated it when he cried, since it made him appear weak. Bud was anything but and was actually quite strong for a seventeen-year-old.

"Ain't givin' up if it's bein' realistic," Bud countered.

"I've sworn for years that mouth of yours is gonna getcha int' trouble," Tolbert sighed. "Ya don't have t' be snippy about everythin'."

"I ain't bein' snippy."

"No? What d'you call it then?"

"I don't know, but I ain't bein' snippy."

"Well, ya are now."

"Tol."

"Hm?"

"Shut up."

* * *

During the afternoon of August 9, 1882, two days after Election Day, Ellison Hatfield died.

Sally had come that afternoon to see them, and once she had left, Bud looked at Tolbert, all hope and color drained from the boy's face.

"Oh my God, we're gonna die," he mumbled. "We're gonna die jus' because that man died. It ain't fair!"

Tolbert pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Calm down, calm down," Tolbert hushed him. "It's fair for some of us. Not all of us."

"What d' we do now?" Pharmer asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Pray," Bud responded equally as quiet, eyes flicking over to Pharmer. "We pray as hard as we can 'cause we ain't gonna get another chance t' do it."

* * *

Bud was pushed against a pawpaw tree, both of his brothers on either side of him. His wrists had been unbound and a rope was tied tight around his middle and his legs, but at least his arms were free. He didn't feel nearly as confined as he could've been, seeing as they could have bound his wrists behind the tree as well, forcing him into an uncomfortable position. But he wasn't, and for that, he was thankful at least.

The entire journey to Kentucky, he and his brothers had been silent. The water from the river had been cold and refreshing, but also a bitter reminder of what was to come. It was the last time he'd ever cross the Tug. Maybe that was why he had watched the water as it rolled onto the raft he and his brothers had been tied to and the ripples that surrounded it. Maybe it was just because he knew he wouldn't be able to look at his brothers without showing how scared he really was; without bursting into tears.

Bud's eyes flicked up as whoever tied him up passed by him, taking his Winchester from the man he'd passed it to before tying Bud to the tree. He kept his eyes cast down, for the most part, swallowing thickly as bile rose in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the faint feeling he had away. The last thing he wished to do was faint. He wasn't sure if the rope they had tied around him could support his weight or not, and he would rather be standing when they killed him.

He heard Devil Anse move closer, could see him in his peripheral vision, and he fought to keep his breathing steady despite the way his chest tightened.

"You boys understand what's gonna happen here?" Devil Anse questioned. Not one of the McCoy boys spoke up, each knowing it was a question not meant to be answered.

Devil Anse paced a few steps before pivoting on his heel, facing Bud.

"You understand why?"

Bud's heart seized in his chest.

"Make yourselves ready."

Bud fought back a whimper. God, he didn't _want to die. _He wanted to be at home, hiding Tolbert's moonshine from him for his own amusement. He wanted to see his sisters (the ones permitted at the McCoy household) frolicking around in their dresses, giggling while they waited for whatever was baking to finish. He wanted to see all of his brothers working the fields with their father, their mother scolding Ran'l for not allowing them to go back to the house for lunch. He wanted to live to see every single one of his siblings find the happiness they deserved in life.

He knew without a doubt that the events that were about to take place would not bring any happiness. It would bring nothing but sadness and heartache and more hate. It would only make the feud between the Hatfields and the McCoys worse.

He had accepted long ago that he would never live to see a life without the feud. He had only been alive around four months when the feud started and had only known one thing throughout his entire life: Hatfields were wrong, McCoys were right. It was something that had been taught at a very early age, though he wasn't taught _why _until he was older.

Bud looked over when Pharmer grasped his hand. Bud broke down then, silently sobbing with his head hung low. How could he possibly look those men in the eyes?

"Aim!" Devil Anse ordered. Through blurry eyes, Bud could see how some of them hesitated. They were each nudged roughly by another and lifted their guns. There was silence for a moment, the only sound being Bud's quiet sobs. "Harden your hearts."

Bud felt a searing pain, gasping and jerking, releasing Pharmer's hand in the process. The pain kept on, over and over again, until Bud's vision faded to black.


	3. There For You (Modern AU)

**_June 2007_**

Tolbert paced the floor, waiting for Ran'l and Sally to return from the police station. His baby brother, who was only four, had gone missing. Tolbert had gone to the bathroom and the laundry room and had left Bud in the living room with _Toy Story _on the TV, as it was the boy's favorite movie. Somehow within the few minutes, he was gone, his brother completely vanished. The front door was open and the toy Bud had been playing with was completely abandoned.

Tolbert had called Sally, who told him to call the police and inform them of what happened. So he did.

Police officers now surrounded the McCoy home. They were searching the living room and trying to get a fingerprint off of the doorknob. But there wasn't one. There wasn't the slightest bit of evidence that could help the case.

Ran'l and Sally came through the door then, Sally grabbing hold of her fifteen-year-old son and pulling him into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't — he was fine, and then I come back and he's-he's gone. I'm so sorry," Tolbert sobbed.

"Hey, shh... it's okay," Sally cooed, her throat constricting as she tried to force her unshed tears back. "It wasn't your fault. It's alright, everythin's gonna be alright."

Tolbert clung to his mother, tears rushing down his face. Sally rubbed the boy's back, shushing him and trying to assure him that it would be alright; that they would find him and everything would be fine. Tolbert wasn't sure that he believed that, but he silently nodded anyway.

The officers left, leaving the family alone. Tolbert wished that he never would have left the room. He wished that he would've stayed and watched _Toy Story _for the umpteenth time. He leaned against the wall, tugging at the hem of his sleeve.

"Don't you worry none," Sally spoke softly. "Yer sure he ain't in the house nowheres?"

"If he is, I didn't see him," Tolbert whispered, sniffling. "I looked _everywhere, _Mama. He's-he's gone. He's not tall 'nough t' reach the doorknob. I honestly don't think he could twist it on his own. I'm so sorry."

"It ain't your fault," Ran'l spoke up, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "What happened is _not _your fault. We're—we're gonna get through it. Bud will be back home soon."

"I shoulda stayed with him. I shouldn't-a gone t' the laundry room. It coulda waited."

"And what if it happened while you were in the bathroom? Ya can't control these things, Tolbert. Who's to say if you had been there that you wouldn't've gotten hurt?" Sally pointed out.

"I don't know, I don't know," Tolbert mumbled. "'M sorry. 'M _so sorry._"

"It's alright, Tolbert. Ya ain't lookin' so good... why don't ya go lay down a bit? Breathe a little."

Tolbert nodded. He'd rather be by himself anyway.

* * *

Tolbert hadn't left his room for three days. Sally had finally had enough, deciding that she would try to get him out of his room on her own, as the insistent pleas of his siblings did nothing to deter him from staying where he was.

"What does he do up there, Jim?" Sally asked while setting the table for breakfast.

"Well, last time I went up, he was watching Cars. Told me t' get out before I had the chance to utter a word, though I could barely understand him. His voice is hoarse."

"Roseanna?" Sally turned to her daughter, who was busy fixing gravy.

"He was watchin' Toy Story when I was up there. After hearin' Bud ain't been found yet, he told me t' leave him alone."

"Alifair?"

"Oh, shoot, I can't remember the name of it," Alifair huffed. "Another one of Bud's favorites, though. He let me come in and watch it with him. I didn't say anything about Bud and neither did he. It was like Tolbert wasn't even there."

"We'll figure it out. I'll go talk to him."

Calvin came into the kitchen, looking defeated as he leaned against the counter.

"He's up there watchin' Lilo n Stitch. Said he don't want no breakfast," he informed quietly.

Sally left the room and went upstairs, slipping inside Tolbert's room. The room was dark, save for the light coming from the TV, and Tolbert was sprawled out at the end of the bed, hugging a pillow with a blanket wrapped around his waist. His hair was messy and oily, his skin seeming to glow in the light cast from the screen a few feet away from him. He wore the same shirt from three days ago, and Sally could see the dried tear tracks on the boy's pale face.

"Tolbert?" she spoke softly.

"Mama?" he rasped. He turned toward her, dark circles under his eyes. "What're ya doin' up here?"

"Came t' check on ya. Ain't seen you in three days, darlin'."

Sally approached and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching Tolbert pause the movie and roll onto his back.

"Haven't wanted t' move," he whispered. "I've cried s' much that I can't anymore. I just... I'm sorry. It was my fault and I should be out lookin' for him, but all I've done is, is sit up here and watch his fav'rite movies. _My baby brother is gone, _and I ain't done a single thing t' help."

"Well, you can start by takin' a shower. Then we'll go out an' look for him after ya eat somethin', alright?"

"Alright."

* * *

**_March 2008_**

A small boy shivered in a dark room. He was alone, his arms shackled to the wall above his head. He coughed harshly, his head hanging down as he coughed, wheezing after he did so. He'd been like this for nearly a week now, and Master had done nothing about it.

The boy flinched and whined as the light flicked on unexpectedly, casting a blinding glare on the tile floor. He lifted his head, seeing his Master as he closed the door.

"Ah. You're right where I left you," the man smiled sadistically.

The boy huffed. It wasn't like he could go anywhere. He wanted to, but he'd learned early on that if he wanted to survive, he wouldn't try to escape.

"Oh, don't look so upset." His arms fell down to his sides, a breath of relief being heard. "You should be happy to see me."

He didn't say a word. He was trying to hold onto memories, trying to keep what little memories he had of happiness alive. He could barely remember his own name, and from what he'd been told, it had only been six months.

You see, Bud McCoy was this little boy. He had memories of his older siblings, all of whom he loved dearly. His brother Tolbert had left him alone for a few minutes, just long enough to go to the bathroom and to put the clothes in the dryer. That was it. Then Master had grabbed Bud and ran, leaving no trace of the boy in the living room.

Bud had fought the first few weeks. After being whipped senseless, he started to do what he was told. He wasn't sure he even had a voice anymore, as each time he got punished, there was usually a beating involved and he screamed. He screamed until his throat and chest hurt, begging for it to stop. It almost always stopped when Bud lost consciousness.

But now, rubbing his raw wrists, he knew something bad was going to happen. Master wouldn't let him free if something wasn't going to happen. His hazel-green eyes scanned the man's frame, searching for anything that he recognized that would hurt him. He found nothing, and almost breathed another sigh of relief when he was roughly jerked up by his arm.

"You've been bad, Worthless. Very, very bad. You understand that, don't you?"

Master never used his real name. Bud had stopped trying to correct him when he stopped fighting. He only hoped that he wouldn't forget what his real name was before his family had the chance to find him.

* * *

**_August 2011_**

"What? No, you can't — you can't close his case!" Tolbert protested.

"Tolbert, we have no choice," the officer sighed. "We have every reason to believe he's dead by now."

"_No! _He's _not_ dead. We just... we just haven't found him yet."

Another officer was seated beside the one Tolbert was speaking to. He was an older man with greying hair and dark eyes. He looked at Tolbert, an expressionless look on his face while he said, "We wouldn't be goin' through this if ya had been a better brother, now would we?"

Tolbert's heart sunk in his chest. He had _no right _to say that.

"Woah, Davis. He was a _kid _when it happened, and from what I understand, he wasn't gone ten minutes. He was still in the house."

"Don't," Tolbert shook his head, his voice shaking. "I'll just... I'll just go."

* * *

Tolbert was now in his single-story home, the one that he had recently bought. It was only about two miles away from Ran'l and Sally's home, and he didn't mind the solitude. He didn't have anyone there to constantly tell him that it wasn't his fault, that no one blamed him for what happened to Bud.

Tolbert didn't care about anyone blaming him. He just wanted his brother back. All Tolbert wished for was for Bud to return safe and unharmed. He would be fine with a few bruises if he had his brother back, or even if it was worse. He didn't care so long as he had his brother.

He angrily wiped away the tears that rolled down his face and sniffed. Tears never did any good. He would change and go out looking again. They had to miss him somewhere. Maybe he was in one of the abandoned cabins in the woods, lost and helpless. Tolbert still had hope that Bud was alive, that his brother would return. And he would never let go of it.

Hearing the phone ring, he sighed and answered it without looking at the name.

"Hello?"

"Tolbert, what happened? Is the case still open?"

It was Alifair. Tolbert broke then, a sob tearing from his throat.

"No. Said they don't have a reason t' believe he's still alive. I'm not — I'm not givin' up. I'm gonna go lookin' again in a few minutes. I've just gotta change."

"I'll go with you."

"No," Tolbert said immediately. "I'm goin' up t' a spot that's real dangerous and narrow. I'll let ya know if I find him, alright?"

"Fine, but I'm going next time, Tolbert," Alifair insisted.

"Yeah. That's fine. Next time," Tolbert nodded, despite the fact he was talking to Alifair on the phone and she couldn't see him. "I'm gonna go. Love you."

"Love you too. _Be careful._"

"Ain't I always?"

Then Tolbert hung up.

* * *

**_January 2016_**

Tolbert had yet to give up. He had just showered and changed into the warmest clothing he had, intending to spend the day searching for his brother (it was his day off, he had the right to do whatever he wanted).

So he headed out the door, tripping over something and landing on his side. He groaned and sat up, his breath hitching in his throat when he saw a teenager laying there.

"What..." Tolbert breathed, taking in his appearance.

He was thin; much too thin to be considered healthy. His hair was knotted and matted, and it was a familiar shade of brown. The honey-brown hair that he had known for four years that only his youngest brother possessed in their family. His eyes were hazel-green, the same shade as his brother's, but they weren't full of life like Bud's had been. His skin was pale, almost a sickly color, and was covered with cuts and bruises and dirt. He looked to be fourteen or fifteen, around the age Bud would have been if he were still with his family.

Finding a piece of paper laying near the boy, he reached forward and grabbed it, noticing how the boy flinched when he got near him. Tolbert unfolded the paper, his eyes scanning over the words written on it.

It read:

_Tolbert McCoy,_

_Your little brother has returned to you. He does not know his name and was an excellent experiment. I thank you._

"Oh my God," he mumbled. "_Oh my God!_"

_Bud was home._

He stood up and extended his arm toward the boy, offering him his hand. He looked at it nervously, then up at Tolbert.

"Bud, oh my—"

"Bud? My name ain't Bud," he denied, shaking his head.

"What is your name?" Tolbert asked softly.

"'S Worthless."

"No, _no, _gosh, I— your name is _not _worthless, alright? Your name is Bud McCoy. You're my little brother. You've been missin' since you were four," Tolbert rambled. "Gosh, I've spent days and hours and months lookin' for you."

"Why? Master says I'm no good," Bud spoke softly.

"Bud, you don't have a master. You were caught by a man who is evil."

"Evil?"

"Ya know what, we can talk 'bout that later. Let's get ya inside b'fore ya catch your death out here."

Seeing the fearful expression on Bud's face, Tolbert swiftly amended his words, saying, "It's just an expression. You ain't really gonna catch your death."

Tolbert gestured to the open door, letting the boy go in first. Tolbert closed the door behind him, gently placing a hand on Bud's bare shoulder and leading him to the living room.

"Sit down. I'll be right back."

Bud, who had only ever known sitting on the floor, sat on the floor away from the furniture, his back pressed against the wall. He looked around, not knowing how he should address Tolbert. He'd already said so much, more than he would've said to his master, and he hadn't been hit for it yet.

His brows furrowed as he stood up, moving over to the mantle that had several photos lined up on it and several hanging on the wall above it as well. In the first few that lined the mantle, he saw a little boy with the man he was with now.

"Bud? Where'd ya — oh, there ya are."

Bud gasped and stumbled back, a hand clamping over his mouth. He was in trouble, he knew it. He was going to get beaten and—

"Woah, woah," he reached out and placed his hands on Bud's arms. "It's okay, I'm not mad. You're okay, you're _safe. _Just breathe for me, yeah?"

Bud nodded, taking in deep gulps of air.

"I got you a shirt and a pair of pants. I don't think they'll fit you, but they'll work 'til we get ya some clothes. Are you alright?"

Bud blinked. No one had ever asked him that before.

"I... I guess," he answered uncertainly. Tolbert handed him the shirt and pants.

"Here, you can change in the bathroom. Then we'll getcha checked out... make sure there ain't no broken bones an' that ya ain't sick."

"Checked out?" Bud meekly asked.

"Yeah. Just a check-up with a doctor. I want you t' be healthy and happy. Come on." Tolbert led him to the bathroom, pushing the door open and flicking the light on. "You can change in here. I'll be in the livin' room... just come back there when you're done, a'ight?"

Bud nodded mutely. He stepped inside the bathroom and shut the door. Tolbert went back to the living room and sighed, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He never thought his baby brother would be returned in such a way.

Tolbert pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, calling Officer Greene, who had handled Bud's case until they closed it in 2011.

"Haven't heard from you in a while, Tolbert," was the first thing that was said.

"You ain't gonna believe this. I don't rightly believe it myself yet," Tolbert chuckled, wiping at his eyes with his free hand.

"What're ya talkin' 'bout?" Officer Greene questioned.

"He's back. Bud, he-he was literally layin' on my doorstep. I didn't know he was there and tripped over him when I went out the door. I got a note from whoever had him. Soon as he changes int' the clothes I found, I'm takin' him t' get checked out."

"Oh my gosh," he breathed. "Alright, listen, bring the note with you. I will meet you at the hospital. How does he look?"

"Rough," Tolbert admitted. "His hair's long and matted and knotted. He's too thin, got cuts and bruises on him, he's-he's actin' no different than a small child. He's thirteen and he... he's scared of me. I found him lookin' at the pictures on the mantle and he looked at me like-like I was gonna hurt 'im."

"Anythin' else I should know before seein' him?"

"He's jumpy. Real jumpy. Said his master said he wasn't no good, and that his name was Worthless. I don't know what they did to 'im these last nine years, and I ain't sure I want t' know."

"Alright. I'll meet you at the hospital."

"Yeah, I need t' check on him anyways. He still ain't come back."

"Alright. See ya there."

"See ya." Tolbert hung up, moving out of the living room and back toward the bathroom. He found Bud in the hallway, looking at the pictures that were hanging on the wall. (Most of them were of Bud when he was little.)

"Can I... can I ask a question?" Bud asked hesitantly, turning toward Tolbert.

"You can ask as many questions as ya want, and ya don't have t' ask permission for it."

"Who's this? Ya got some of him in there too."

"That's you when you were younger. Ya had t' be 'round three in these. It was when our Aunt Patty got the idea t' try t' be a photographer," Tolbert answered. "She used you as her first model 'cause her youngins were with their uncle, Perry Cline."

"You... kept them?" Bud's eyes flicked between Tolbert and the pictures.

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded. "I did. For nine years they were all I had 'cause you wasn't here. Ya always was my favorite brother."

"Why?"

"Well, don't rightly know. Last time I saw ya, you were four and I was fifteen. Now I'm twenty-three an' you're nearly fourteen."

"Oh... how ya know that?"

"Well, I'll tell ya in the car. We need t' getcha checked out, remember?"

"Oh yeah. 'M sorry, sir," Bud murmured.

"Oh, no, it's not a bad thing. It's just... I'm worried 'bout ya. And don't call me _sir. _Makes me feel old. Call me Tolbert."

Bud nodded, following Tolbert out to the truck. He pulled the passenger door open, letting Bud get in before shutting it and hurrying to the other side, hopping in and starting the engine.

"_Anyway, _I know that 'cause you were born October 30th, 2002. You're ten years younger than me."

"Exactly?"

"No. Ten years and a few months," Tolbert corrected.

"Oh. How ya figure that?"

"Did they not teach ya nothin'? Countin', readin', writin'?"

"What's that?" Bud queried.

"I'll teach ya when we get back home. They're essential t' know," Tolbert tried to explain.

"Where's we goin'?"

"We're goin' t' the hospital. I want t' make sure you're healthy... or as healthy as ya can be, seein' as you're too thin for a thirteen-year-old boy."

Bud frowned.

"Ya look like a walking skeleton, Bud. We're gonna have t' get ya somethin' t' eat after this."

"Eat? Oh, I'm not 'lowed t' do that," Bud shook his head.

"Well, now you can. Ya ain't livin' with him no more."

"Ya mean it?" Bud glanced at Tolbert, hope and mistrust shining in the boy's eyes.

"Yeah, Bud. I mean it," Tolbert nodded.

"Do I still have t' sleep on the floor?"

"On the—no, no you don't. You're gonna sleep in a bed like every human being should."

Bud's brows furrowed. Why was Tolbert being so nice? Wasn't he supposed to be mean like Master?

He turned his head toward the window, watching the trees and houses as they whizzed by. Master hadn't let him see where they were going; hadn't told him where they were going either, and had told him he needed to shut up if he wanted to live. Before today, Bud couldn't remember ever going outside.

"Tolbert?"

"Yeah?"

"Why're you bein' s' nice t' me?" Bud asked, a childlike innocence shining in the boy's eyes.

"What d'ya mean?" Tolbert glanced at him as he stopped at the stop sign, flicking his turn signal on.

"My... master wouldn't ever let me do any of this. Talk, sit up here, know where we're goin' and what's gonna happen... give me clothes. Why're you doin' it?"

"Bud, I spent nine years lookin' for you," Tolbert started, gently pressing the gas pedal. "You're my little brother and I wasn't willin' to let go of the hope that ya were alive n well. Right now, all I know is that you're alive. Ya seem well enough with some minor injuries, and I'm hopin' that's the truth, and _gosh, _Bud. I love ya, kid."

Bud turned toward Tolbert, biting down on his lip.

"...How would you know that?"

"What, that I love ya? I dunno, it's just a feelin'. Hard to explain," Tolbert smiled softly. "And I know you don't trust me yet. That's okay, we'll take it as slow as you need to. If somethin' makes you uncomfortable, _tell me. _We'll get past it somehow."

"Really?" he squeaked.

"Yeah. I don't want ya bein' uncomfortable."

"Oh. Okay."

* * *

Arriving at the hospital, Bud immediately tensed. Tolbert glanced at him, pulling into a parking spot before shutting the truck off and focusing his full attention on him.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah... I think I don't know," Bud shook his head. He let out a humorless laugh before saying, "I don't know a lot of things."

"That's okay. You're pretty dang smart without knowin' all them things."

The two got out of the truck, Tolbert walking to the back and waiting for Bud. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders when he approached, not missing the way Bud flinched.

"Sorry," he immediately apologized.

"Don't apologize. If you want me to move my arm, just tell me."

"No, no, it wasn't that," Bud denied. "I just... I'm not used t' people touchin' me without hurtin' me."

Tolbert felt his heart break for him.

"Well, you ain't gotta worry 'bout that no more. I won't hurt ya intentionally."

Approaching the front desk, the lady glanced uneasily at Tolbert and Bud.

"How can I help you?" she asked softly.

"I need t' get him checked out... He's-he's been missin' for nine years and literally showed up on my doorstep t'day. I just wanna make sure he's healthy — well, as healthy as he can be."

"Ah, you must be the ones Officer Greene is waiting on. Go have a seat," she smiled, pointing to the far corner of the waiting room.

"C'mon, Bud."

They approached the officer, who stood up.

"My Lord," he breathed.

"Here, sit down in one of the chairs, a'ight?" Bud looked at him uncertainly. He wasn't supposed to sit in chairs. "It's alright. Just sit there, okay?"

Bud did as he was told, despite feeling that it was wrong. He looked to the floor, his tattered shoes looking horrible against the clean white floor.

Tolbert passed the note to Officer Greene, who was giving Tolbert a look.

"When you said he looked rough, I didn't think you meant _that _rough," Officer Greene whispered.

"It's just... He thinks he's worthless," Tolbert spoke in a hushed tone, just quiet enough that Bud couldn't hear. "He's still as innocent as a child. He's right smart, though. Told me his master never let him talk or anythin'."

"Sounds like he's warmin' up t' you," the officer smiled softly.

"A little. I don't think he thinks he's worth anything."

"That's common in a case like this one. I'll see if we can get him in faster. We need a lot of answers and I have a feelin' he won't like the hospital for long."

* * *

They had been at the hospital for three hours. Tolbert yawned, scratching the back of his neck while looking at his phone. Bud was sitting on the bed, and he looked positively terrified.

So far, they'd confirmed that he was indeed Randolph McCoy, Junior, had taken blood, x-rays, updated him on his vaccines, and had given him a normal check-up as well. The most important things from that were the fever and the fact that Bud was extremely underweight.

The fever, Tolbert had been told, was likely just something he'd contracted with his low immune system. It could've been something as serious as pneumonia and it could've been as small as a stomach virus. The x-rays were clear, though, so it wasn't pneumonia.

"Tolbert..."

"Hm?" Tolbert hummed, looking up at him.

"I... when d' we leave?" Bud questioned, picking at his fingernails.

"Well, we leave when the doctor says we can. I'm not sure what's goin' on, but it shouldn't be too much longer," Tolbert replied.

"Ya sure?"

"Yeah, Bud. I'm sure."

Bud fell silent again, shifting uncomfortably. His eyes flicked around the room, trying to find something to distract himself with. He was good at that, usually, but the problem was that the walls were barren, save for the few medical-related posters that were hung on them.

"What's wrong, Bud?"

"I dunno. Just... I don't really know the word for it," he laughed at himself, looking to Tolbert.

"Bored?" Tolbert supplied.

"Yes! That's it."

"C'mere."

"'M I allowed t' do that?"

"Well, yeah. Some people prefer sittin' in the chairs rather than on the bed. They don't care s' long as ya don't leave the hospital."

"Oh..."

Bud slid off the bed and scurried over to Tolbert, sitting down and leaning against his arm. Tolbert closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to push down any unwanted emotions.

"I'll show ya how ya play this game, then you can do it, 'kay?"

"'Kay."

After Tolbert played a few minutes, explaining how it worked, he passed it to Bud. Bud kept his head against Tolbert's shoulder, mumbling to himself while he played the game Tolbert showed him. Tolbert smiled slightly, the corners of his lips turning upward while he observed his little brother, who still had the look of childlike wonder in his eyes.

Maybe that was what convinced him it was Bud. Sure, Bud ended up looking exactly how Tolbert thought he would, and he had the note, but Bud was still as innocent as he had been when he was kidnapped. It was obvious that the person who had done it hadn't fooled with the boy much, just torturing him enough to make him forget who he was and where he came from. While that disturbed Tolbert, he was thankful it wasn't worse.

He suppressed a laugh at Bud's frustrated grunt. The boy shifted slightly and kept on playing the game, seeming to pay no mind to Tolbert.

"Alright, well, nothing's come back that you need to worry about. He seems t' be healthy, other than the fever and his weight. You're free t' go," the doctor announced. Tolbert thanked the man before coaxing Bud into standing, wrapping an arm around him and leading him out.

* * *

Tolbert didn't mind Bud playing with his phone. It had kept him distracted the entire ride home (and while they sat in the drive-through), so no, Tolbert wasn't complaining. Bud was content trying to make matches of three or more with colors.

Tolbert doubted he even knew what colors were.

Yet despite all that, Bud was still intelligent. He was intelligent in his own sort of way, had an understanding of things that amazed Tolbert, as the boy didn't even know what love was, or why someone would want to keep a photo of him after he went missing.

"We're home, Bud." Tolbert hopped out of the truck and made his way up to the door, unlocking it and pushing it open.

Bud trailed behind him, standing at the door, waiting for Tolbert to go in first.

"You can go in, Bud," Tolbert assured him.

His brows furrowed. He wasn't used to going in first, but he would do as Tolbert said. He'd rather not risk getting beaten again, even though Tolbert had told him several times that he would not intentionally hurt him. And Bud was starting to believe it. Tolbert hadn't given him a reason not to, and he felt like he could trust his older brother.

Bud had learned over the last few years that one gave their trust slowly. So that was exactly what he did. He would slowly begin to trust Tolbert, just in case there was a reason he shouldn't trust him. But then... Tolbert wouldn't talk to the men his master avoided, would he?

Shaking his head free of the thought, Bud found himself standing idly in the hallway, gently kicking his foot back and forth. He didn't know what to do, or where to go, so he had no choice but to wait for Tolbert.

"So... I should probably show you how t' get around here. That way ya don't have t' try t' figure it out on your own," Tolbert thought aloud, earning a huff of amusement from his little brother. "I'll show ya 'round, then you can do whatever ya want. I don't really care, as long as it's not illegal."

Seeing the look on Bud's face, he waved it off, assuring the boy that it was a joke and that he was sure he wouldn't actually do anything illegal. Bud had gone along with it, following Tolbert through the house and into the kitchen.

"This is the kitchen. I spend a lot of time in here, sittin' at the table and workin' on stuff." Tolbert set the bag of takeout on the counter. "I also try t' create culinary masterpieces. Mama usually laughs in my face when I tell her that."

Bud giggled quietly.

"Come on, I'll show you your room and where my room is. You already know where the living room and bathroom is."

Bud nodded, falling a few paces behind his brother while they walked out of the kitchen and down the hall. Turning to the right, Tolbert opened a closed door and flicked the light on.

"It's bare right now, but we can add whatever ya want to it," he said, referring to the empty walls. "I'll take ya someplace tomorrow and get ya some clothes that fit ya."

He didn't know what to say to that. He'd never had someone willingly do something for him that wouldn't end with him screaming in pain. It wasn't what he was used to; he was used to being tormented and ignored, not whatever it was Tolbert was doing.

"My room is the one right down the hall. Next door ya come to. If you ever need me, check there first. Well... that's the whole house. Why don't we head back t' the kitchen? Ya look like you could use some food."

Bud, without thinking, quipped, "Not a culinary masterpiece?"

Tolbert gaped at him for a few seconds, and Bud gasped.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No, no, it's alright. I just... didn't expect that," Tolbert murmured. "You've got wit."

"What...?"

"Means you're good at comebacks and things like that. I'm impressed," Tolbert laughed. "That was a good one, kiddo."

"So... I'm _not _in trouble for sayin' it?" Bud queried nervously.

"No, you're not in trouble. Not in the _least. _That was great. You'd make Mama prou—_oh my gosh, _I haven't told Mama or Poppy."

"Who?"

"Our parents. They're lovely people... I'll see if I can get 'em to come over, without our crazy brothers and sisters," Tolbert chuckled.

"We have brothers and sisters?"

"Quite a few of 'em."

"Y-yeah? They all like you?"

"We're all different in our own way. Better that way, too. Makes family get t'gethers more interestin'."

Bud let out a quiet laugh, biting his bottom lip and feigning interest in the floor.

"If meetin' Mama n Poppy don't overwhelm ya, I reckon you can meet them soon. They've missed ya too."

"But... why? I can't even remember you."

"You're still part of this family. You were four the last time we saw you. Even then, when I was fifteen, you didn't even come up to my knee. Now, look at ya! You're older, wiser, a little different, but we'll work everythin' out, alright?"

Bud nodded.

"Great! Let's get t' the kitchen now. Trust me, food usually ain't no good if it's cold."

* * *

Ran'l and Sally arrived at Tolbert's house at around eight o'clock, where their son had told them he had a surprise for them and couldn't tell them what it was. The two glanced at each other before getting out of Ran'l's beat-up pickup truck, going to the door, where they used their key to get in. They weren't sure why Tolbert told them to do that, but they figured they could play along with his game.

It had been years since they'd seen or heard a trace of true happiness in Tolbert. The boy sounded elated while he was talking to his mother, so the least they could do was play along with whatever game he was playing.

"_Ow!_"

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

Sally looked at Ran'l, her face pinched in a bewildered expression. She recognized Tolbert's voice, but she didn't recognize the other.

They moved toward the kitchen, stopping in the doorway when they saw Tolbert murmuring to a boy no older than fifteen, who sat in a chair with part of his hair cut.

"Hold still, alright? I know it hurts, but there's no other way t' do it without hurtin' ya too bad. The other way is a lot more painful than this," Tolbert spoke softly.

"I'm fine. Just caught me off guard," the boy grumbled, shifting in his chair.

"I know. I didn't see that one or I woulda warned ya. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. 'S a lot better than what... never mind."

Tolbert closed his eyes a second, then reopened them and started to gently part the boy's long hair, cutting it along the bottom.

"Mama n Poppy should be gettin' here. I... I think you'll like 'em."

"Yeah?" Bud murmured before gasping sharply.

"Sorry," Tolbert winced. "Yeah. Good grief, did they never cut your hair?"

"No."

"Tolbert, what on earth are you doin'?" Sally spoke up, startling both boys. The one in the chair fell silent and hung his head while Tolbert sighed deeply.

"Mama, you almost gave me a heart attack!" He gripped the back of the chair and lifted the boy's head again. "I'm cuttin' Bud's hair, to answer your question."

"Bud?" Ran'l quirked a brow.

"Yeah. Randolph McCoy, Junior, otherwise known as Bud, appeared on my doorstep today. Already took him t' the hospital and had him checked out, Officer Greene has the note that was left in hopes of finding the man who did it, and now I'm tryin' to cut his hair 'cause it's all knotted and matted," Tolbert explained. "He's thirteen years old, stands at five foot eight inches currently, and is underweight. He just ate though, so we're going to fix that in no time at all."

Tolbert leaned down and whispered something in Bud's ear, causing the boy to nod slightly.

"Are you... are you kiddin'?" Ran'l stammered.

"No," Tolbert shook his head. "Check that paper on the counter if ya don't believe me."

Ran'l sighed and grabbed the paper.

Tolbert went back to cutting Bud's hair, murmuring quietly to the boy and sighing in relief when he finally got it relatively short.

"I reckon we can try to wash it and get the tangles out now. See if we have t' cut it any more than what we've already done. But first, I think ya should meet Mama n Poppy."

Bud looked up at him warily.

"Listen to me, they're not goin' to hurt you. No one I introduce you to will hurt you, a'ight? I'll make sure of it myself."

"I... I guess so," Bud whispered. "Ya sure?"

"Yeah, Bud," Tolbert nodded slightly. "I'm sure."

"Tolbert, if you're a-messin' with me, I swear I'll—"

"Sally, you best read this before finishin' that threat," Ran'l interrupted. He handed her the piece of paper and moved over to where his sons stood, one sweeping hair while the other nervously tugged at the hem of his baggy shirt. Ran'l recognized it to be Tolbert's shirt and could see traces of the little boy that had disappeared now that he saw his face.

Ran'l blinked and took a shaky breath. It was almost too good to be true. His son who had been missing for nearly _ten years _had appeared on his older brother's doorstep.

"He literally appeared at your doorstep?" Ran'l asked quietly.

"Yeah, Poppy. I found him by trippin' over him."

"What'd you feed him?" Sally questioned.

"I fed him takeout because I still haven't gone to the store. I've been too busy focused on finding him, no thanks to the people who shut his case five years ago," Tolbert answered, sweeping the hair into a dustpan. "Off'cer Greene said he could stay with me."

"Hey, Bud, do me a favor, will ya? Go set this in the livin' room for me," Tolbert passed the boy his phone, knowing he'd likely get distracted by it. Once Bud had left the room, Tolbert sighed, putting the broom back in its rightful place.

"Tolbert, what...?"

"He's not entirely the same. And that's okay. He's got to adjust b'cause he thinks he's completely worthless for whatever reason, and I've got him t' wear he trusts me a little. He'll talk to me, but he's scared t' death t' say anythin' to anyone else. He's still like a kid, Mama. He has that childlike innocence, he can't read or write or any of that, and he don't remember any of us. He's tryin', though. He don't remember anything but a room, he says."

"A room?" Ran'l queried, brows knitting together.

"Yes," Tolbert murmured. "There's nothin' wrong with him other than a fever and him bein' underweight. I'm gonna get him some better clothes tomorrow and-and try t' find somethin' to put in his room so it ain't so bare. We at least want it lookin' like somebody lives there."

"Oh my heavens," Sally muttered, sitting down. "You're not messin' with us?"

"No, Mama. I ain't messin' with y'all."

Bud returned then and was accepted as their missing son. Sally could see the little boy that she'd often chased through the house, could see how whatever had happened to him had affected him.

"C'mere," Tolbert waved him over. "They jus' wanna talk t' ya, Bud."

* * *

**_March 2016_**

Bud gasped and lurched to a sitting position, throwing the covers off as he scrambled to get out of bed. His foot got tangled in them and he crashed to the floor, but he quickly bounced up and took off toward Tolbert's room.

"Tolbert!"

Tolbert sat up, squinting while looking at Bud.

"Wha's wrong?"

Bud tried to form words, but he couldn't. All he could do was sob.

"C'mere, c'mere," Tolbert scooted over, pulling the covers back and letting the boy lay down beside him. Tolbert wrapped his arms around him, letting him cry. "Shh... 's okay. It's okay."

Over the last two months, Bud had come to trust Tolbert more. He didn't mind Tolbert touching him, he loved Tolbert's hugs, and would willingly make quips at Tolbert, who always laughed at them when he caught him off guard.

And over the last two months, Bud had started having nightmares. Each night it was different. Some were possible, some weren't, and even though he _knew _the ones that weren't possible weren't real, they still terrified him to no end.

Tolbert hadn't said a word the first time he came running into his room, babbling senselessly while he tried to explain what happened to him. Tolbert had done as he was doing now — he held the boy until he fell asleep again.

"You're alright, shh..." Tolbert hushed. "It's okay, Bud."

Bud tightly clenched the fabric of Tolbert's shirt. Tolbert played with the boy's hair, trying to comfort him by murmuring comforting phrases.

"I jus' wanna be able t' sleep," Bud cried, tears rolling down his face.

"I know, Buddy, I know."

"I don't know why it keeps happ-happenin'."

"Because you've been through something most people can't even imagine. You've got t' be the bravest person I know. There ain't no way I coulda trusted somebody as quick as you trusted me."

"You ain't gave me no reason not to. Ya ain't nothin' like he was," Bud sniffled.

Tolbert was speechless. He had no idea as to how to respond to that, so he opted to stay silent, playing with Bud's hair while the boy slowly calmed down.

"Tolbert? I ain't upset ya, have I?" Bud sounded like a small child; one who yearned for protection and was often denied it.

"No, Bud, you ain't upset me at all," Tolbert quickly assured him. Letting out a small laugh, he continued, "I jus' don't know what t' say."

Bud swallowed thickly and pressed his forehead against Tolbert's shoulder. Exhaustion overwhelmed him and he wanted to sleep, but he wouldn't. When he slept, he was back there, or he somehow ended up back there, and he would rather stay awake than face it again.

"Tolbert... I'm bored," Bud complained, shifting slightly.

"Bored? At—" Tolbert paused and reached behind Bud, lifting his phone and reading the time. "—two-thirty in the morning?"

"Yeah. I-I'm scared t' go t' sleep."

A wave of sympathy crashed over Tolbert.

"Alright, tell ya what. You can watch a movie or somethin' in here."

Bud nodded in agreement. Tolbert got up, grabbing the remote and moving back. He sat on the bed, turning the TV on and scrolling through the channel guide to see what was on. After putting it on a channel holding a Disney movie marathon that happened to be playing _Toy Story, _Tolbert turned it up loud enough for Bud to hear it, then set the remote on the nightstand.

"Wake me if ya need me, alright?"

"Mhm. Night, Tol'ert."

"Night."

* * *

When Tolbert awoke, Bud was propped up against the headboard, snoring lightly. Some Disney movie was playing on the TV, the character bursting into song. Tolbert propped himself up on his elbow and gently shook Bud's shoulder.

"Hey... hey. Why don't ya lay down, hm?" Tolbert spoke softly. Bud nodded, sliding down and laying his head on the pillow, Tolbert fixing the covers before he got up.

"Where you goin'?"

"I'm just goin' t' the bathroom. I'll be back in a minute."

Bud hummed and face-planted his pillow. He turned his head enough that he could breathe easily, one arm thrown carelessly across his middle. Bud grunted and shifted, his eyes barely open while he looked around. He'd wait until Tolbert got back to go back to sleep. It was always like that; Bud still didn't trust him completely (Tolbert always told him that it was fine and he understood completely) and he felt much safer when he did that.

Bud fought to stay awake. He had to stay awake or else something might happen. Turning his attention to the TV, he saw that another movie that was completely different from the princess movie that had been playing when he dozed off. A small man was living in a cathedral (he was almost certain that was what it was called) and a tall, older man was telling him that he couldn't go outside.

He didn't know why, but it reminded Bud of his master. He whined and turned over, not wanting to watch it. His heart thundered in his chest, and he laid his left arm on top of his head, blocking his vision and covering his ear so he couldn't hear it. He didn't want to remember; remembering caused nothing but pain and Bud didn't like it.

He curled up in a ball, his knees touching his chest while trying to block out the movie. He didn't know what it was, but he didn't like it. Not at all.

"Bud? Hey, what's the matter?"

"I don't like it!" he responded, probably a lot louder than he intended. He wasn't sure, he couldn't really hear.

"Don't like what? The movie?" Tolbert pointed to the TV.

"Uh-huh."

"Here, I'll turn it off."

Bud couldn't hear the muffled words anymore. Slowly, he lifted his arm, his eyes flicking toward the now black screen. Bud let out a shaky breath, turning over onto his back. Tolbert went to his side and got on the bed, laying down and allowing Bud to curl up beside him.

"Wanna tell me what happened, kiddo?" Tolbert murmured, pulling his fingers through the thick brunette curls.

"It just... it just reminded me of-of _him,_" Bud mumbled, one arm laying on Tolbert's torso. "And I really don't wanna remember."

"I can understand. All you gotta do is turn the movie off if ya don't like it."

"Yeah? Mean it?"

"Course I do."

Bud craned his neck, looking up at Tolbert.

"Why're you so nice?" Bud questioned.

"Well... I don't know," Tolbert chuckled. "Why're you so sweet?"

"Didn't think I was."

"Bud, you're one of the sweetest people I know."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

Tolbert paid no mind to the boy as he drifted off to sleep after a few moments of silence.

* * *

"Mornin', sleepyhead," Tolbert smiled as Bud shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing one eye. His hair was sticking up in all directions, and it made Tolbert amused.

"Mmph."

"You in the mood for pancakes? 'Cause that's what I made."

"Mmph."

Tolbert leaned against the counter, an amused smirk tugging his lips upward.

"You gonna say anything other than 'Mmph'?"

"_Mmph._"

Tolbert rolled his eyes and grabbed a plate, stacking two of the finished pancakes on it. He looked at Bud, asking, "You want syrup and butter on it or no?"

"Yeah, sure. You know how t' make 'em, I don't."

"Ah! He does speak!"

"Shut up," Bud grumbled.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. Probably not the best idea t' pick on ya too much."

"Mmph."

Tolbert set the plate down in front of Bud, moving and grabbing a glass.

"Milk, orange juice, or apple juice?"

"I... don't know. Uh, whatever."

"Alright."

Tolbert poured a glass of apple juice, tightening the lid and setting it in the fridge again. He snatched the glass off of the kitchen island, setting it down beside Bud.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"No problem," Tolbert patted his shoulder while he passed by him. He grabbed the other plate, sitting down across from Bud. "You feelin' okay? Ya look a little pale."

"Hm? No, I'm fine."

"Okay," Tolbert accepted the answer, watching as Bud sipped the apple juice. "Wanna come with me t' Wal-Mart?"

"Sure?"

"Great. After you eat, go change."

"Mkay."

* * *

Bud had felt uncomfortable each time he'd been to Wal-Mart. There were a lot of people and they all looked at him like he was crazy, yet he didn't know why. He always stuck by Tolbert's side, refusing to leave him.

But there was only one thing worse this time. He had spotted his master. Bud's breath hitched in his throat and he roughly jerked Tolbert's shirt.

"_Oh! _What're ya doin'?" Tolbert demanded.

"H-h-he's here, Tolbert, he's here," Bud whimpered.

"Who?"

"M-my master."

"Where?" Tolbert's voice softened.

"Over there by the shirts."

Tolbert's eyes found him and recognized him immediately. Jim Vance, otherwise known as Bad Jim or Crazy Jim to the people of the Tug Valley. Tolbert's heart skipped a beat. _That _was who held his brother captive for nine years and made him think he was a worthless human being? It made him sick to his stomach.

"Come on, we'll leave. I got what I came in for."

"Tolbert, Tolbert, he's a-lookin' at me! I don't wanna go back, Tol, _I don't wanna._"

"Nonononono, don't look at him. Look at me, breathe, it's okay."

"He's gonna take me 'gain! I don't wanna go!"

"You ain't goin' nowhere," Tolbert said sternly, grabbing hold of Bud's arm and leading him toward one of the (very few) open lanes. "You're fine. Everything's goin' to be fine."

"Tolbert," Bud whined quietly, tucking himself against his brother's side. He didn't want to be apart from him, fearing that his master might try to grab him again. His heart was beating loudly and swiftly, and he felt that it might burst through his skin at any given moment.

"Shh, it's okay," Tolbert whispered in the boy's ear, throwing his arm over Bud's shoulders. "No one's gonna lay a finger on you or even touch as much as a hair on your head. I won't let anyone hurt you, got that?"

Bud nodded silently, glancing over his shoulder. He was following them. What if he took them both? He quickly turned his head back, staring down at the floor, feigning interest in the tile.

"It's alright, we're almost outta here."

Tolbert swiftly paid for the filters, hammer (his literally snapped in two), and the pair of jeans (Bud had somehow managed to rip his only pair of jeans).

Bud grabbed one of the bags and Tolbert grabbed the other, the two brothers leaving the store. Now that Tolbert knew who it was, he could contact Officer Greene and let him know. Although Tolbert knew there would be some that doubted his brother, he believed that Bud would know the man that held him captive for nine years. It was the person he feared, the person he never wanted to see again. He probably wished he could forget him.

Bud looked up at Tolbert, murmuring an apology.

"Why're you apologizin'? Ya ain't done nothin' wrong."

"I just... I don't want t' go back and when I saw him—"

"Don't apologize over that," Tolbert chided, though he wasn't unkind about it. "I completely understand. That man was horrible to you for nine years, and he hurt ya. I don't see how he did it without remorse, but he did, and I promise ya he ain't gonna touch you."

Bud screamed when Tolbert hit the cement. He knelt beside him, pulling a dart out of the back of his neck. _What was in that thing?_

He gasped as someone jerked him up. He squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to look, he didn't want to look, _he didn't want to look. _He didn't want any of it to be real, he didn't want to leave Tolbert. Tolbert had let him do so much and had let him speak and eat and sleep in a bed.

It was a bad dream. It had to be. Nothing could knock Tolbert out that fast, could it? It just wasn't possible. Bud refused to believe it. It was a bad dream, that's all it was. It was a bad dream and he couldn't wake up.

Bud fought against him, trying to wrench himself out of the man's grasp. He went to a dead weight when he started to drag him and roughly hit the cement. He winced, but he didn't lighten his weight.

"_Get up!_"

"No! I'm not goin' back there!" Bud elbowed the man's stomach, quickly crawling away from him and over to Tolbert. Bud was jerked up by his arm, his shoulder popping out of place with a cry of pain as he was thrown over Jim's shoulder.

"You've forgotten the way you were taught. My, my, what will I do with you?"

* * *

Bud was thrown against a wall, still fighting against Jim.

"Quit it, boy!" he roared, pinning Bud's arms down to his sides.

"Let me go! _LET ME GO!_" Bud screamed, resorting to kicking his leg, trying to get free.

"Uncle Jim? You here?"

A voice Bud had never heard before.

"Let go!"

"Shut up," Jim growled, quickly grabbing a muzzle and strapping it tightly onto Bud's face. He was thrown in the corner and gasped sharply, whining as his arms were shackled to the wall.

He didn't want to be there, he didn't _want to be there._

"_Mmph!_"

"Hush!" Jim pressed the pressure point near Bud's neck, a muffled scream being heard. Bud felt a familiar pain and he felt the floor and wall rotating. His eyes rolled in the back of his head after a moment, his head dropping low.

* * *

"He's awake!"

"Don't get too close."

"Go get his parents, hurry!"

Tolbert felt funny. That was the first thing he noticed that wasn't unfamiliar voices. His eyes scanned the room, finding a bland hospital room, his brows furrowing as he looked around. Where was Bud?

He knew the boy had been there with him. They'd gone to Wal-Mart and Bud had seen the man who had kidnapped him before and—

_Bud was missing._

"Mama! Mama, w-where's Bud?" Tolbert sat up, his eyes wide and his heart rate accelerating. Silently, he was pleading for his mother to say that he was in another room, that he'd been placed in a room of his own.

"We don't know, Tolbert," Sally answered weakly, all hope drained from her face and voice.

Tolbert fell back on the bed, his hands covering his face.

_He'd failed again._

Bud was gone again, and he'd been in Tolbert's care. Why couldn't Tolbert do anything right?

"Tolbert, hey, Tolbert, it wasn't your fault! The coward shot you with a dart filled with some sort of sedative that knocked you out like a light," Sally went on to explain.

"It's-it's worse this time. He-he saw him while we was in Wal-Mart an' I told him we'd leave. S' we-we checked out n left. I told him he'd be alright, that he wouldn't be taken back or hurt or—" Tolbert stopped talking suddenly. He could vaguely remember that he had seen the man, knew that it was a man, and if he could just remember, he could tell someone.

"Don't blame yourself. The coward found a way of gettin' him back that was dangerous to both of you," Sally tried to comfort her second-eldest son, pulling her fingers through his ginger curls.

Tolbert wiped his eyes, sniffing as he tried to gain his composure. He hated the feeling he felt; it was the same despair from before, but multiplied by a tenfold. What could he do? He had no idea where his brother went or anything like that. Apparently, he'd been a heap on the parking lot.

"We'll find him, Tolbert," Ran'l assured him.

Tolbert wished he could have forced himself to believe that.

* * *

Bud was certain he'd never felt so much pain in his life. He had been beaten senseless the last five days, but he'd yet to stop fighting. Every day ended with being shackled and muzzled, but he wouldn't stop. He was stronger than he had been the first time around, had won a few playful fights against Tolbert (who had taught him how to fight), and was sure he'd eventually escape.

The only problem would be trying to find his way back to Tolbert's after he gets out of the front door. He didn't really know where he was.

Bud was only certain that he wouldn't stop fighting this time. He didn't care how long he was there, he would fight. He would die fighting, not being an obedient coward. Though at the moment, he didn't feel like doing much fighting.

Leaning his head against the wall, he took a deep breath, ignoring the slight discomfort. He was almost certain his ribs had been broken. His master had stomped on his chest and he'd heard something crack, and he was pretty sure it was his ribs. Or he hoped it was his ribs. He wasn't the smartest person, but he at least knew that ribs could heal on their own without any assistance.

He whined through his muzzle, shifting as much as he could to try to cause the dull pain to dissolve. His throat was raw, so were his hands and the majority of his face — the muzzle was always tightened so tightly he could barely breathe and it left horrible red marks when it was taken off of him.

His eyes flicked to the door when it creaked open, exhaling deeply and shifting again. He'd be freed in a moment or two and he could strike again. While Bud never said anything, he would strike the man without a problem. He'd busted his nose earlier in the week, around two days in, if he remembered right.

It was then Bud realized that just looking at him, he wasn't intimidating. Master looked like a normal man, one who wouldn't do any of the things he'd done. Bud was relieved when his arms fell to his sides, swiftly gripping his wrist and rubbing it gently. It was starting to become raw and hurt a little, but he found it wasn't nearly as painful as his raw throat.

He tried to ignore the closeness as the man took the muzzle off of Bud's face, Bud taking a deep breath and leaning back against the wall for a second. He never attacked right away; he always waited and caught Master off guard. And when he turned his back, Bud was up and shoving him.

"Are you stupid, boy?" he spat, climbing back to his feet swiftly, seeing Bud, who looked a mix between terrified, exhausted, and defiant. Bud slowly shook his head, his chest heaving up and down.

Bud grunted when Master's fist hit his stomach. He was wrestled to where his back was against Master, his arm wrapped around Bud. His left hand covered Bud's mouth, and Bud, doing the first thing he could think of, bit him.

Master cried out and shoved him away from him, Bud hitting the wall and falling to the floor, slightly disoriented from the swift movement. A scream tore from Bud's throat as his hair was grabbed, his head being pulled back. His hands flew up and knocked his hand away, kicking as he tried to get away.

He was shoved against the wall, his wrists quickly shackled.

"_Ridiculous! _Ya won't ever get the privilege of bein' free again!"

"Can't really call it free when I'm still here with you," Bud spat, his eyes shining with defiance. He could see Master draw his hand back, and tried to brace himself, but the harsh sting from the slap still shocked him. His head whipped in the other direction, and he let out a breath, bringing his legs back and kicking his master so hard he fell to the ground.

He growled and grabbed the muzzle, wrestling it onto Bud's face. Bud refused to sit still, moving his head away from him each time he got near.

"I swear to ya, boy, if ya don't quit, I'll hurt that brother of yours!"

Fear seized Bud's heart. Surely he wouldn't hurt Tolbert. Tolbert had nothing to do with any of this and he didn't deserve to be hurt because of Bud.

"Ah, so ya _do _care 'bout someone! Ain't you got 'nough sense t' know nobody really loves you?"

The muzzle was tightened. Tears welled in Bud's eyes. He supposed he would quit fighting if it kept Tolbert and the rest of the family safe. He loved them all dearly and didn't want anything to happen to them because of his defiance. He had no doubt that Master would follow through with the threats he made. And while there was a part of him that doubted Master's words, the other side of Bud wasn't willing to risk it.

He pulled his knees up to his chest and laid his forehead against them. He was so very tired and he really didn't want to do anything that might end with another beating like the one he'd received yesterday or might end up getting his family hurt.

"Ya ain't goin' nowheres anytime soon, ya hear me?"

Bud nodded. He heard his master's heavy footfalls and the door slam shut.

* * *

**_April 2016_**

Tolbert jerked awake. _Crazy Jim, Crazy Jim, Crazy Jim. _That was who had his brother.

He grabbed his phone and swiftly called Officer Greene.

"Hello?"

"I remember the man. It's Crazy Jim Vance," Tolbert blurted.

"Are you sure, Tolbert?" Officer Greene pressed.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure. Bud saw him and nearly jerked me backwards. He told me his master was there, and I saw Crazy Jim."

"Alright. I'll contact the West Virginia police and let them know the situation. I legally cannot do anything on the West Virginia side of the river, other than bring Bud back."

"Just... just get him home," Tolbert sighed tiredly. "I don't want t' go through all this again."

"I'll do my best, Tolbert."

"Thank you."

"It's no problem."

* * *

Bud was aware that the situation was _at least _one-thousand times worse than last time. He'd been shot through the shoulder, and he was certain it was infected. It oozed pus and blood, but Bud couldn't do anything to cover it. His arms were shackled to the wall, restricting his movement.

His master had been giving him a beating when a knock sounded at the door. Bud's nose and eye throbbed with a dull ache, as did his shoulder, as it had been punched as well. And while Bud could hear voices, he couldn't hear what they were saying.

He lolled his head back, breathing labored, trying to ignore the voices. He only hoped it wasn't people who were like his master.

Bud inhaled sharply through his nostrils when the door burst open. Two men in green uniforms appeared, one kneeling and working with the shackles while the other leaned down and undid the straps to the muzzle.

"Hey, it's okay, kid. We're here to help. How bad are ya hurt?"

Bud shrugged and winced. His shoulder throbbed and his wrists ached, but he was _fine. _He had no choice but to be fine.

"Come on, kid," the one kneeling gently grasped Bud's forearm. "We'll get ya outta here."

Bud stood and swayed. Without thinking, his hand gripped the officer's arm. Realizing what he'd done, Bud released him and fell to the floor, hitting his head and falling unconscious.

* * *

Tolbert paced the hospital room, trying to calm his accelerated heart rate. Bud was _fine. _Well... he had an infected gunshot wound and broken ribs that nearly punctured his lung, but he was going to be alright.

Now he was pacing Bud's hospital room, as he'd been put in a room of his own before being taken back for surgery, and he was worried. It was just to remove the bullet and to drain the infection, but it still worried Tolbert to no end. Bud was his youngest brother, and he'd gotten close to him the two months Bud had lived with him. Tolbert hated how he'd gotten used to Bud's company and how it had been jerked away from him.

"Hey... are you okay?"

Tolbert lifted his head, finding Alifair, who stepped forward and hugged Tolbert tightly.

"I'm not, but I don't think I'm the one y' should be worried about," Tolbert whispered.

"We're worried about both of ya. One of you is overwhelmed with shame and remorse and the other is really giving us reasons to worry. They wouldn't tell us anything, what's goin' on?"

"Most serious things are the infected gunshot wound and broken ribs that nearly punctured his lung," Tolbert recited. "He took some brutal beatings, and judging by the shape his hands are in, he apparently put up a good fight, too."

"Good. Ya taught him t' fight, at least he used that knowledge t' help him."

"I don't think fightin' Bad Jim Vance is gonna help none when he's holdin' you captive."

"Clearly it didn't bother him none. Maybe he was determined t' get out this time. Despite everything, Bud loves you, Tolbert. If he had the choice of livin' with us or you, he'd pick you every time. Don't... don't be too hard on yourself."

* * *

Tolbert had dozed off in the chair beside Bud's bed. Bud woke up during that time, whining quietly as he came to. He didn't recognize the room he was in, and his arms were by his side, not stretched out and shackled to the wall. He could breathe easily and didn't feel the tight leather muzzle around his face. He gently brought one hand up and touched his face. It wasn't there.

His eyes flicked around the room, landing on Tolbert, who was sleeping. His breath left his chest. Was he free or was this all some type of demented dream that would make him want to scream when he woke up?

Tolbert shifted in the chair, his eyes slowly opening. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and started to mumble under his breath, leaning forward slightly. His eyes caught sight of Bud staring at him, and Tolbert gently reached forward and took hold of his hand.

"Hey, kiddo," Tolbert spoke, his voice deep from sleep.

Bud didn't say anything. He lifted his left hand with a wince, a silent way of saying hello.

"You've been out for a few days... How ya feelin'?"

Bud still didn't speak. It was all going to change soon enough and he could save himself the pain if he kept his mouth shut. He refused to hope that it was real and Tolbert was really there.

"Bud, talk t' me, please," Tolbert pleaded.

Silently, he pulled his hand away from Tolbert's and gently tapped his throat. It still hurt and he wasn't sure he _could _talk.

"Somethin' wrong with your throat?"

Bud nodded. His throat was still raw from all of the screaming he'd done.

"Here, I'll... I'll go tell someone you're awake. I'll be right back," Tolbert forced a small smile, petting Bud's head.

Bud braced himself. This was always where the dream took a demented turn and terrified him. He didn't necessarily like it, but he would deal with it if he had to. And anytime he was knocked unconscious, he had to.

Tolbert came back and sat down in the chair again. Bud slowly forced himself into a sitting position, the pain alone telling him that he had to be awake. If he wasn't, it was a very realistic dream.

"Woah, woah! That's probably not the best thing t' do right now, Buddy," Tolbert stood, gently placing a hand on his back. "Just-just lay down. It's alright."

"Tolbert, I need t' talk to you."

Bud recognized the man as the officer that had talked to Tolbert the first time this happened.

"Alright." He turned to Bud. "I'll be back, a'ight? I'll send one of the family in."

Bud nodded silently. Tolbert left with the policeman, and a few moments later, Roseanna came in. She smiled at him and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, sitting down and grabbing his hand.

"It's scarier when you understand what happened when it happens," Roseanna told him. "I didn't understand the first time and this time I did. I was scared I might lose ya for good, Buddy."

Bud wished he could say something. He'd learned it was best not to speak at all, and his throat was already burning enough as it was.

"Here, let me fix this." She stood again and pressed a button, raising the head of the bed. She helped Bud scoot back against it, the boy huffing a sigh of relief while Roseanna pulled her slender fingers through his oily hair. "There ya go. I'll bring some dry shampoo tomorrow and fix your hair."

Bud's brows furrowed. Dry shampoo? Would it even work?

"Tolbert said your throat was sore. You want me t' get ya some ice water?" Roseanna asked. Bud nodded slightly. "Alright. Be right back. Just gotta go t' the nurse's station in the hall."

* * *

"Is that a muzzle?" Tolbert pointed to the item on Officer Greene's desk.

"Yeah. The one your brother was wearing when we found him," Officer Greene replied. "Jim Vance left his fingerprints all over that and these shackles that were on the wall. It's likely that brother of yours tried to fight him."

"I figured he did. His knuckles are busted," Tolbert sighed, rubbing his temples. "He woke up few minutes b'fore ya got there."

"Maybe he had a good reason. Bud's been gone for what, a month?"

"Somethin' like that, yeah."

"Jim Vance didn't have any bruises, but allegedly, he did allow Bud free for a while. I don't know what happened that made it stop, but the officers in West Virginia found enough evidence to prove that Bud was freed at some point."

"What evidence could prove that?"

"Blood on the other side of the room. They found some of Jim's, too. Likely caused by Bud hittin' him. That's all they've been able t' get him t' say so far."

"So... so this man, he-he didn't even treat him like a human, is what you're a-sayin'. He just shackled him to a wall and put a muzzle on him like he's some kinda wild animal that can't be tamed, and he don't see a thing wrong with that?" Tolbert took a shaky breath, leaning against the desk and hanging his head. "How could ya hurt an innocent thirteen-year-old boy? How could ya hurt him when he was four? Bud ain't done anything to anybody t' deserve anythin' like this."

Officer Greene watched as Tolbert stressfully pulled his fingers through his hair. He was obviously fighting to keep his composure, using his sleeve to wipe his nose, swallowing thickly and taking a deep breath. Tolbert was the epitome of distressed.

"That's why he won't talk," he whispered quietly, almost brokenly. "He won't utter a word t' me. I can't get him to say anything."

"Just keep workin' at it. You'll get him t' talk eventually."

Tolbert nodded and turned to leave.

"Have you ever thought 'bout becomin' his legal guardian?"

Tolbert stopped and spun on his heel.

"No, why?"

"Well, I think it's pretty obvious that he won't be livin' with Ran'l and Sally. Get it legal to where you can take care of him and take him to the hospital without question if ya need to, and you could probably get it finalized in less than a month. He's not going to go with Ran'l and Sally to any type of appointment. He doesn't trust them like he trusts you."

"I don't... I don't think I could do that t' Mama n Poppy," Tolbert stumbled over his words, shaking his head lightly.

"Tolbert, talk to them. Talk it over with them and Bud, probably best t' do it separately, then just think about it. You could homeschool him since I sincerely doubt he could join public school and know what they're teaching. I don't think Jim Vance would teach him what he needs to know while he was locked in that room."

Tolbert nodded slightly. The least he could do was agree to talk to them and think about it.

* * *

Tolbert felt horrible as he approached his parents' home, knocking on the door. His stomach was twisting itself into a knot, his palms sweaty. He wiped them on his dark jeans, licking his chapped lips as Ran'l opened the door.

"C'mon," Ran'l stepped out of the way and allowed him to step inside. "What d'you wanna talk about?"

"It's... it's very complicated and I'm not sure about goin' through with it. I want t' make sure you n Mama are alright with it before I even consider it," Tolbert tried to explain.

Ran'l hummed while they entered the dining room, sitting down at the table. Sally smiled at him and sipped her coffee, Tolbert clenching his hands under the table. How could he possibly explain this to them? He was their youngest son, why would they let him do this?

His heart skipped a beat. Why couldn't it be easy?

"You wanted to talk to us about something?" Sally asked, raising an inquisitive brow.

"Yeah. It's... it's just an idea, I haven't even considered actually _doing it _yet, because it's so — so complicated."

Ran'l and Sally glanced at each other. They couldn't remember a time when they saw Tolbert so nervous.

"I was thinking about trying to get legal guardianship of Bud. That way I could homeschool him without any issues, take him to the doctor when he needs t' go, even put him on my insurance plan. I-I know he's your son, and he would still come 'round here like he always does, but... I dunno, it was just an idea," Tolbert explained, a breathless chuckle passing through his lips. He stared at the surface of the table, clenching his hands tightly under the table while he tried to calm his racing heart.

He couldn't bring himself to look at Ran'l and Sally, who were silent. The silence was killing him.

"Have you talked to Bud about it?" Ran'l asked after a moment.

Tolbert sighed deeply, rubbing his temples while saying, "I haven't even mentioned it to him. I can't get him t' talk and I wanted to clear it with y'all before even consideringit."

"Why don't you see what he thinks about it first?" Sally suggested.

"I can't even get him to tell me how he's feelin'!" Tolbert cried. "How am I supposed t' get him t' talk to me about that?"

"Just try, Tolbert," Ran'l advised. "Where'd you get that idea, anyways?"

"Officer Greene. He took me to his office a few days ago and showed me the things they found and told me how it's goin'. I just — he suggested thinking about it and I did and... I thought I'd talk to you first. Y'all always know what t' do."

"Okay... good idea. Not gonna lie, that's a — that's a wonderful idea," Ran'l nodded slightly, scratching his beard. "But I'd suggest talkin' to Bud first. See what he thinks about it before askin' what we think 'bout it."

Tolbert exhaled deeply through his nostrils, his eyes flicking up to his parents. "Yeah, okay. Okay, I'll do that."

* * *

Bud was released from the hospital that day. Tolbert took him home and let him lay on the couch, fetching a blanket and a pillow for him. He laid there, whining quietly, his shoulder aching.

"Hey, can I talk t' you 'bout somethin'?" Tolbert asked, sitting on the edge of the coffee table and fixing the blanket. Bud nodded slowly. "Great. So, I — I had an idea a few days ago. I want t' know if you'd care if I became your legal guardian."

Bud wanted to say something, but he was too afraid to. Tolbert noticed, quietly saying, "It's okay to talk, Bud. You're not gonna get in trouble over it."

"Y' promise?" Bud rasped.

"Yeah, kiddo. You can talk as much as you want."

"What's a legal guardian?"

"It just means I'll be able to take you to the doctor when ya need t' go, I can homeschool you and teach ya what ya need t' know, and I can even put ya on my insurance plan. Basically, it just means I'm responsible for ya until you're a legal adult," Tolbert explained, brushing Bud's hair out of his face.

"Oh... Would, would I still see Mama n Poppy?"

"Of course ya would," Tolbert assured him. "I ain't ever gonna keep ya from goin' t' see Mama n Poppy."

Bud was silent for a second, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously.

"I... if you are my legal guardian, would I live with ya?"

"Yeah, kiddo. You'd live with me."

"Okay," he agreed softly. "I — I think I'd like that."

"Great. I'll talk it over with Mama n Poppy. Get some rest, Buddy."

* * *

**_June 2016_**

Tolbert now had full legal custody of his younger brother. Bud didn't mind it at all, and had actually started to talk more, and had given a full statement to Officer Greene about what happened. He had been told that the more they knew, the more likely it would be that they could keep him in jail. (And after Tolbert quietly explained what that meant, Bud had been more than willing to give a statement.)

Tolbert had immediately homeschooled Bud after getting custody of him. So far, he'd taught Bud his letters and was now in the process of trying to teach him how to write and count. Bud had insisted on doing both since he'd caught on with the letters so quickly.

"I don't get it," Bud sighed frustratedly, glaring at the paper in front of him.

"That's probably 'cause you're holdin' the pencil wrong," Tolbert pointed out, moving and fixing Bud's hold on the pencil. Bud looked up at Tolbert, muttering incoherently under his breath.

"I don't understand it. Like... like _I know _the letters but I just can't figure it out."

"Here, I'll write it once, then you copy it, alright?"

"Y-yeah, that might work," Bud nodded vigorously.

Tolbert grabbed a pencil and a sheet of paper. Bud watched each of his movements, his eyes flicking over to his own paper every few seconds with his arm moving slightly. Tolbert paid it no mind, going through each letter, both uppercase and lowercase. Once he'd finished, he set his pencil down and looked over at Bud.

"I think I got it."

Tolbert's eyes shifted to the paper in front of Bud, finding that Bud had been copying his movements the entire time.

"Yeah, yeah you did," Tolbert chuckled. "Now do it again without watching me."

Bud groaned and put his head down on the table.

"Are you sure I _have _to know how to write?"

* * *

Bud entered Tolbert's room, shuffling just a little past the doorway. Tolbert, upon hearing the commotion when Bud got out of bed, lifted his arm and extended it. Bud scrambled over, climbing on the bed and curling up beside Tolbert. Tolbert turned onto his side, wrapping his arms around his baby brother.

"Nigh'mare?" he mumbled groggily.

"No, I just don't want t' be alone," Bud confessed. "It's just really bad tonight."

"Oh... well, I reckon ya can sleep in here t'night if ya want to."

"Thanks," Bud breathed, wrapping his arms around Tolbert.

"Mhm," Tolbert hummed, fighting to stay awake. He was exhausted from work and teaching Bud, but he was managing, despite running on maybe three hours of sleep a night. Bud didn't necessarily know that, as Tolbert always did his best to hide it from him, and would wake Tolbert whenever he had a nightmare or was having a bad night. Sometimes it included a panic attack, and sometimes it didn't.

Tonight it didn't. Bud just laid there, paying no mind to Tolbert, who had dozed off again. His thoughts drifted over everything that had happened the last few months; his temporary freedom, the way Tolbert had taken care of him, being caught again, and now living with Tolbert again. He didn't mind living with Tolbert. He loved him and he trusted him, and just recently, Tolbert had gained custody of him.

Tolbert must've woke up while Bud was lost in his thoughts, for he started to play with Bud's hair. Bud sighed in contentment, his eyes closing.

"Can't sleep?"

"No," Bud murmured, shifting slightly. "I thought maybe this would help, but it ain't helped none."

"Maybe it's the silence keepin' ya awake."

"Silence? Funny, I coulda sworn a bear was in here a few minutes 'go."

"Hey now, that ain't nice."

Bud giggled, craning his neck and looking up at Tolbert. Tolbert looked down at him and quirked a brow, moving his hand and pulling his fingers through Bud's hair. Bud hummed in contentment, moving back to the position he'd been in before.

"What, ya like it when someone plays with your hair?" Tolbert asked lightly, amusement laced into his voice.

"Mhm," Bud hummed, blinking slowly. His eyes closed and he shifted, fighting to stay awake. "Hey, Tol?"

"Hm?"

"Why d'you snore like a bear?"

Bud snorted as Tolbert slapped his back.

"That ain't funny," Tolbert huffed. "I don't make fun of you when you snore."

"Maybe it's because I don't sound like a bear," Bud quipped.

"Alright, that's just mean," Tolbert laughed.

"No, it's not," Bud argued, trying not to laugh. "It's funny and you know it."

Tolbert rolled his eyes. While it was kind of funny, he wouldn't admit it to Bud, who was quietly giggling. His shoulders shook with laughter, one hand covering his mouth to try to contain the giggles that he couldn't stop.

"It's not that funny," Tolbert drawled.

"I'm really tired n I can't sleep," Bud rolled his eyes.

"So you're hysterical?" Tolbert deadpanned.

"No."

"Sure seems that way t' me."

Bud started grumbling, which stopped when Tolbert's fingers brushed against the back of his neck. He yelped and tried to get away from Tolbert.

"Ticklish?"

"I... guess? Nononono, quit! _Agh, _Tolbert, stop!" Bud rolled onto the floor, earning a booming laugh from his older brother.

Bud stood up, grabbing a pillow and hitting Tolbert with it.

"I'm going back to my room. I shall see you tomorrow."

"Alright. Night, Buddy."

"Night, Tolbert."

* * *

On June 16th, the power went out while the two brothers were sleeping.

Bud woke up in the middle of the night to complete darkness and threw the covers off, getting up and heading toward the bathroom. He stumbled down the hall, pushing the door open, blindly feeling for the light switch on the wall. He flipped it, brows furrowing when the light didn't come on. He tried again, groaned, and started to shuffle to Tolbert's room.

"_Tolbert,_" Bud groaned, "the lights ain't workin'."

"What d'ya mean the lights ain't workin'?" Tolbert mumbled sleepily, opening a single eye.

"I mean the lights ain't workin'! They won't come on in the bathroom."

Tolbert made a face before throwing the covers off of him and sitting up.

"C'mon. Prob'ly just a blown bulb."

"Okay... how d'ya fix that?"

"Just gotta change it. I usually don't have t' change 'em often. Maybe that one's a dud..." Tolbert strode down the hall, his hand running along the wall in the darkness. "Turn the hallway light on, will ya?"

"Sure. Hang on, I can't — _ah!_" There was a loud thud and a grunt. "I can't see."

Bud clambered back to his feet, flicking the switch to the light in the hall. He looked up and sighed heavily, flipping it on and off a few times before announcing, "It doesn't work either."

"Oh no," Tolbert moaned. "Stay right here."

Tolbert made his way to the kitchen, finding it pitch black. He sighed, leaning against the doorway and rubbing his temples.

"Oh no, no, no, _no. _This is horrible!"

"You say somethin'?" Bud shouted.

"The power's out!" Tolbert screeched, one hand slapping his thigh as he walked back to Bud. "I'll get the flashlight outta my room. Hang on."

Tolbert went back to his room, grabbing the flashlight he kept in there, then returning to the hallway where Bud was. Bud was leaned against the wall, half-asleep, and slowly lifted his gaze when Tolbert came back. He winced and whined when Tolbert flicked turned the flashlight on since it had been pointed at him.

"Sorry! I didn't know it was gonna hit ya directly in the face an' blind ya," Tolbert apologized.

"It's fine," Bud waved it off. "Don't worry 'bout it."

"Here ya go. Just leave it in the bathroom."

"Mkay. Thanks."

* * *

Bud didn't shuffle into the kitchen until around 9:30 that morning. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of basketball shorts with his hair curly and frizzy.

"Mornin'. Hate t' tell ya, but we still ain't got no power. That means we ain't got no A/C either, or any way t' make food. Go grab a shirt and we'll go get somethin' t' eat."

"Long as we use the A/C I don't care," Bud mumbled.

Tolbert snorted, watching the boy leave the kitchen. He grabbed his phone and his keys, setting them on the table before grabbing his sneakers and pulling them on. He tied the laces and stood up, snatching the items off the table before moving to the doorway.

"'Kay, I found one," Bud came back to the hallway with a shirt in his hand. "Ya ready t' go?"

"Yeah. C'mon."

* * *

Bud fell asleep in the truck.

Tolbert went through the drive-through at McDonald's, setting the bag in the floorboard on the passenger side. He hoped Bud wouldn't kick it. He set the drinks in the cup holders and mumbled to himself as he pulled out, knowing that Bud probably wouldn't eat if they went back home. Heck, Tolbert wouldn't eat if they went back home. It was too hot in that house.

The A/C was blasting and Tolbert had one of Johnny Cash's albums playing, tapping his finger against the steering wheel along to the beat. He flicked the turn signal on, gently pressing the brake and turning onto the highway.

Tolbert couldn't help but laugh when Bud started snoring. He knew that Bud was an insomniac and that he didn't sleep well when he was too hot or too cold. Tolbert also knew that Bud couldn't sleep without a blanket, so he likely didn't sleep well at all after he went back to bed the night before.

Bud was a complex person; there were times he would open up to Tolbert and pour his heart and soul out to him, then there were times it was all Tolbert could do to get the boy to speak and eat. It was getting a little easier, as Bud had been talking more lately, and was very honest with Tolbert.

Tolbert glanced at him, pulling into a park. He parked in the gravel, gently poking Bud's arm before grabbing the bag off of the floorboard.

"Wake up, Sleepin' Beauty," Tolbert said loudly, causing his baby brother to jolt awake.

"What'd you do that for?" Bud groaned, shifting and turning his head in the other direction.

"'Cause you need t' eat. You can go back t' sleep _after _you eat."

Bud grunted and looking over at Tolbert. Tolbert handed him a sausage biscuit and a napkin, telling him he had a Sprite in the cup holder beside him.

"Ya know, you talk 'bout how I snore. You sound like a velociraptor," Tolbert remarked. Bud glared at him.

"Not funny," he grumbled, sipping his Sprite.

"Yeah, it is," Tolbert smirked in amusement.

"It's really not. At least I compare you t' somethin' that exists," Bud retorted, folding the wrapper down.

"Velociraptors existed at one point," Tolbert told him.

"They got blown up by a meteor, Tolbert."

"Well, there's better ways of saying that."

Bud shrugged, taking a bite of his food.

* * *

Bud was asleep again in less than ten minutes. Tolbert carefully took the wadded wrapper and napkin out of his hand, putting it in the bag before setting the bag in the back seat. He glanced at Bud, whose head was turned toward the window, and shook his head fondly, putting the truck in drive and leaving the park.

Deciding to see if their parents had power, Tolbert bypassed his home and went on to Ran'l and Sally's. There had been a few occasions where they had power and Tolbert didn't. Tolbert didn't necessarily understand how that worked, as they were less than five minutes away from each other, but once had been because Tolbert forgot to pay his bill. He knew he'd paid it this month, so that wasn't the problem.

Tolbert left the engine running and hopped out of the truck, deciding that he didn't have to wake Bud. The boy was already in a semi-bad mood and he didn't want to make it worse.

Approaching the front door, Tolbert rapped his knuckle against it. It swung open a second later, revealing his mother, who smiled softly.

"Happy birthday, darlin'."

"Thank ya, Mama," Tolbert smiled. "Y'all have power?"

"Can't say we do," Sally sighed. "The kids woke me up sometime in the middle of the night t' inform me the entire house went black. Bud with ya?"

"Sorta. He's in the truck sleepin'. I woke him up once so he could eat and he was sleepin' again in less than ten minutes. He can't sleep when he's hot. Or cold for that matter."

Sally laughed softly, looking toward Tolbert's truck and spotting her youngest son.

"Is he alright?" Alifair joined their mother, glancing between Tolbert and Bud.

"Yeah. He's just tired," Tolbert responded. "He don't sleep well when he's hot."

"Oh... makes sense, I reckon." After a short pause, she added, "Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

"He know it's your birthday?"

"I don't even know if he knows what a birthday is," Tolbert admitted with a heavy sigh. "We're working on writing and counting at the moment. Goin' alright, all things considered. I reckon so long as the power's out, he ain't gotta do nothin'."

"Think he'll like that?"

"Yeah. He got frustrated yesterday with writin'. He couldn't figure it out."

Sally chuckled, patting Tolbert's shoulder.

"I'm sure he'll figure it out."

"He kinda has," Tolbert chuckled, looking over at the truck. "It's strange t' think he's almost fourteen. It's not like he's changed much the last ten years, he's just grown taller and he has a better understandin' of things. He catches on quick and he's got a sharp, witty tongue that can cut ya if he catches ya off guard."

"Sounds like someone I know," Alifair drawled before looking pointedly at her brother, "_Tolbert._"

"Don't drag me into this. I have nothin' t' do with his wit," Tolbert remarked. "His first day back in January, he made a good one and thought I'd be mad at him. Boy's as sharp as a tack, yet he don't seem to see why anyone loves him or anythin' like that."

"That's why he's got you," Sally smiled kindly. "He trusts you more than he trusts any of us, and he loves ya, Tolbert. Just keep doin' what you're doin'. He seems t' be happy n healthy."

"That's just because he's in the air-conditioned truck. He's a menace when he's hot."

Alifair busted out laughing, as did Sally.

"He's a menace when he's cold too."

"Oh my gosh," Sally laughed. "Well, you can deal with him then."

"Thanks a lot, Mama," Tolbert scoffed, leaning against the post. "I don't know how t' handle him when he's like that."

"Ya just deal with him the best ya can. All teenagers are like that," Sally snorted. "You were worse, though. I seem t' remember a time when you refused t' leave your room."

"Alright, that was right after he went missin'," Tolbert tried to defend himself. "And it didn't last long."

"That's true," Alifair agreed. "He was in there what, three-ish days? He got out and started lookin' for Bud after you somehow talked him into takin' a shower."

"Alright, we get the point," Tolbert groaned.

"Almost nine years..." Sally trailed off. "Your father is still givin' you the day off the day it happened."

"Really?"

"Mhm. Says ya need t' spend time with him. He also said ya didn't let yourself have fun while Bud was missin', so it's about time ya start havin' fun again."

"I do have fun."

Sally raised a brow.

"I do! I reckon I can go home and try t' find a way t' stay cool. Hope Bud's in a better mood."

Hearing the two women giggle, Tolbert shot them both a glare. Sally smacked the side of his head and laughed.

"Love ya, Tolbert."

"Love you, too, Mama. See y'all later."

* * *

Bud was miserable. He'd quickly found that he preferred the cold to the heat, and Tolbert was at his wits end trying to keep Bud in a semi-decent mood.

"It's so hot," he moaned, flopping onto the couch.

"Go take a cold shower!" Tolbert exclaimed. "It'll cool ya down for a while."

"Cold shower's the only kind I can take right now," Bud grumbled as he got up.

"Alright, you wanna do somethin' else? I can find my deck of cards and we can play a card game."

Bud paused, shuffling back and sitting down on the floor in front of the couch. Tolbert got up and went to the kitchen, rustling through the drawers and pulling out the box that held his deck of cards. He headed back to the living room, where he found Bud slapping the table rhythmically. He recognized it as one of the songs that had played in the truck, though he couldn't remember the name of it at that moment.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"'S stuck in my head," Bud replied, forcing a smile. "It's a good song."

"I have t' agree. Don't think Johnny Cash has a song that I don't like," Tolbert told him, sitting on the floor across from Bud.

"Really?"

"Mhm."

Bud hummed and nodded slightly. He watched Tolbert shuffle the cards, humming the tune to the song that was stuck in his head.

"Wanna play war?"

"What's that?"

"Quickest one t' learn and it's easy. It's fun too. Even if the games sometime last a while."

"Okay..."

"So, first off, let me deal out the cards. You deal every card between every player," Tolbert informed him, starting to deal the cards. "Turn that lantern on, will ya?"

Bud fiddled with it for a moment before figuring it out. "Ah! I got it. Stupid thing didn't wanna come on."

Tolbert only shook his head and continued to deal the cards.

* * *

"Tolbert, is it always this quiet when the power's out?" Bud inquired, looking over at Tolbert, who had his legs slung over the arm of the chair he was in. Tolbert lifted his gaze, seeing Bud lying on the couch and meeting his brother's hazel-green eyes.

"Usually," Tolbert nodded.

"There's too much quiet," Bud complained, his brows pinched together in irritation. Tolbert agreed, observing the boy as he turned his head back, staring at the ceiling. "I... What do people usually do when the power's out?"

"Well, people tell ghost stories, scary stories, stories that don't involve bein' scared at all... Uh, play card games, board games, read, write, talk t' other people."

"Ghost stories? The heck is a ghost story?"

"Here, sit up. You can lay back down when I sit over there."

Bud huffed and sat up, waiting for Tolbert to sit down before laying down again. His head laid in Tolbert's lap, and he hummed while Tolbert scratched his head gently.

"Ever heard 'bout the woman in white that roams these hills?"

"No."

"Want to?"

"Sure."

"Alright, where t' begin..."

* * *

"Is that real?" Bud asked.

"S'pposed to be. I ain't ever seen her, though," Tolbert replied, pulling his fingers through Bud's thick, curly locks of hair.

"But people have really seen her?"

"Mhm. Or they claim to have seen her. Maybe they were just seein' things, but no one really knows."

"Mm... Why'd they kill her?"

"No one knows. The most they could get was a confession that they did kill her."

"That's not scary at all," Bud remarked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Crazy people killin' a woman with no good reason. And in the 1800s?"

"Mhm. It was like 1890 or somethin' like that. I can't remember, it's been so long since I've heard it."

"Is it just somethin' made up t' scare people?"

"No. Not this one," Tolbert chuckled. "There are some that are made up just to scare people, though. Wanna hear one of those?"

"Sure, why not?"

"You sound thrilled," Tolbert deadpanned.

"_Ecstatic,_" Bud quoted, giggling when he saw the look on Tolbert's face. "It's Aladdin, you uncultured swine."

"I know what it is!" Tolbert exclaimed. "You just caught me off guard with it. I didn't know you'd seen Aladdin."

"'S a good movie. Now tell me the one that's not real."

"Geez, okay. Let's see... It happened on a night like this one. It was hot and sticky, the power was out, and two brothers had been left home alone while their parents went to the store. They decided that they would stay in the oldest's bedroom. His name was Sam and he was around fifteen. He had been the one to suggest it, as he knew his ten-year-old brother was still afraid of the dark.

"His brother's name was Tyler. He called him Ty and he was the only one allowed to call him that. Tyler was very particular about what people called him, and he only liked Sam calling him Ty."

"Why?" Bud interrupted.

"Wasn't really a reason for it," Tolbert shrugged. "Anyways, they sat together on Sam's bed, playing some type of card game while they waited for their parents to get home. Tyler wanted some water, so he got up to go get a bottle since they kept it in the pantry. He got to the kitchen and heard a knock on the side door. He figured it might've been his parents, so he opened it. Instead of his parents, he found an older man, around his mid-forties, standing there. He opened his mouth to shout for Sam, but he was jerked out of the house by the collar of his shirt, a hand clamped over his mouth. He screamed, but it was muffled. No one could hear it. Tyler was dragged out and murdered that night.

"Now back at home, Sam was startin' t' get worried. So Sam got up, tryin' t' find a flashlight. He found one and flicked it on, then slowly made his way down the hall. He could hear the side door in the kitchen hitting the counter, and he broke into a run, finding the door open and Tyler nowhere t' be found. He called his name, running to the door, his arm catching the doorway. '_Tyler! Ty, this ain't funny!_'

"He received no response. Thinking that maybe his brother had gone to the bathroom or went to look for something, he started to search the house. Nothing. Only Tyler's shirt he'd been wearing the day before laying on the floor in Tyler's bedroom, just as it had been that morning. Sam started to panic. He couldn't find Tyler and his parents would be home soon. What could he possibly tell them? Well, instead of throwing himself into a full-blown panic, he went back to his room, grabbing his cellphone and calling the police."

"How does that work?"

"911 is the only number you can call when you don't have service," Tolbert explained.

"_Ooohhh, _makes sense," Bud murmured. "How'd they kill Tyler?"

"I'm gettin' to that," Tolbert said softly. "Anyways, a little bit of time passed, maybe two or three days. By that time, their parents had found out and assembled a search party. Sam decided he would go out on his own, and headed out into the woods right off of the side door in the kitchen.

"The sun was setting when he found something. It was a knife with blood all over it. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and bent down, picking it up with his handkerchief. He kept going, freezing when he found something much worse than a bloody knife."

"No. No, no, don't you dare say it—"

"He found Tyler. He'd been stabbed to death."

"_I told you not t' say that!_"

"Sam, not knowing what else to do, went back home and told his parents about what he'd found. They immediately contacted the police, and Sam led them to the place where his brother was. So the knife was submitted as evidence, despite not knowin' who it belonged to, and Tyler's body was taken out of the woods."

"Please get better, please get better, _please get better,_" Bud whispered.

"Sam stayed behind, trying to cope with the sudden death of his younger brother. He sat against the boulder and cried. It seemed that time stood still then, and a chill swept through, chilling him to his bones. He heard a scream, his brother's voice, and his name. He could hear Tyler screaming his name, could hear Tyler's desperate cries for help.

"Sam started to think that he was hearing things. So he left. While he was sleeping that night, he woke up to the sound of someone whispering his name softly. Whoever it was, was so close to Sam that their breath tickled his ear. He jerked awake, finding an empty room. Sam propped himself up on his elbow, looking around after hearing, '_Sam,_' again. His eyes caught sight of a white, pale figure in the corner.

"Before he could even blink, the figure was up in his face. It had Tyler's face and looked like he did after he'd been stabbed. Sam screamed, feeling ice-cold hands against his skin. His breath caught in his throat when Tyler's hands wrapped around his throat. He wasn't sure what was going to happen, but he didn't like it. Not at all.

"The door swung open and Tyler disappeared, leaving Sam, who was panting on his own. His parents ran over to him, trying to find out what was going on, and all they could get was, 'Tyler was here. I _swear to you, _Ty was in here an' he tried t' choke me!'"

"They didn't believe him, did they?" Bud muttered quietly.

"No, they didn't," Tolbert shook his head. "Instead, they thought he was hallucinating. So they made him an appointment with his doctor and took him to it, where they also thought he was hallucinating. It seemed that no one in their small town believed in ghosts or whatever it was he had encountered. And it stayed that way, with Sam waking up to someone so close to his ear he could feel their breath and ending with him trying not to scream when Tyler would squeeze his throat. He didn't know what else he could do.

"He didn't know what he could do, and he couldn't tell anybody because they wouldn't believe him. On the nights he did scream, he lied and said they were caused by nightmares. No one questioned it until Sam stopped sleeping altogether and the screaming continued. They knew he wasn't sleeping, but they still allowed him to keep on with his lie. And no one ever said a word."

"But they had t' stop him eventually. Ya can't go forever without sleep, right?"

"Well, you're right, but you seem t' practice the whole no sleep for as long as possible thing," Tolbert quipped. "But anyway, Sam had gone about eight days without sleep at that point. He was exhausted and he knew that he probably wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer, but he would stay awake as long as he could. He was weak and pale and had dark bags under his eyes. And on that night, Tyler or whoever it was appeared again and held him by his throat. And Sam didn't fight. He didn't try to get away and he lost his breath. Sam died that night. It was ruled as an unknown cause, though there were fingerprints on his neck.

"No one knows who killed Tyler, and no one knows who killed Sam. All they knew is that Sam swore that he saw Tyler the day he found his brother's body and he swore it for a while after. Then he started to lie, and he stopped sleeping, and they assumed that Sam was lying about seeing his little brother's ghost. Yet he was found with fingerprints on his throat, just as he always swore that Tyler choked him when he appeared."

"Tol—"

"And maybe it would have been alright if their parents hadn't been found the same way a week later. No one knows what happened to that family, and no one has ever risked going into that house to find out. Now, whenever a brave soul enters, they're found the next morning with fingerprints on their neck, and stab wounds littered across their torsos."

"Okay, that-that was scary," Bud stuttered, sitting up and turning toward Tolbert. "Please tell me that was the end of it."

"Yeah, that was the end," Tolbert smiled, patting Bud's shoulder. "Why don't ya go t' bed? It's nearly 12:30 and you need sleep."

Bud agreed and got up, shuffling to his room. Tolbert leaned against the back of the couch, hoping and praying the story he'd made up wouldn't bother his baby brother too much.

* * *

Tolbert woke up to the sound of Bud running down the hallway. He didn't bother to do anything but scoot back, so the boy could easily climb on the bed and lay down beside him. He heard the door swing open and tried to prepare himself. Bud scrambled onto the bed and shoved his face into Tolbert's shoulder. Tolbert grunted and wrapped his arms around him, fighting to stay awake.

"Tolbert, I saw him!" Bud muffled.

"Saw who?" Tolbert asked, his voice deep and raspy.

"_Tyler!_" Bud all but screeched, his voice rising a few octaves.

"Bud, I made all of that up. It ain't real."

"Tolbert, I'm tellin' you, I saw him!" Bud insisted. "He was in the corner of my room!"

"And I'm tellin' you not a word of that was real. I made it up a few days ago and found a good reason t' tell it. I usually tell 'em t' Calvin n Pharmer n them, but I ain't been over there t' give 'em a good scare yet."

"Tol..."

"Hm?"

"Are you _sure _it's not real?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Tolbert assured him, rubbing his back.

"But I saw him," Bud whispered.

"And sometimes, after hearin' ghost stories, people see things like that 'cause their mind will play tricks on 'em."

"Really?"

"Yup. Ain't nothin' t' worry about. Tyler and Sam aren't real, Buddy. I promise you I made them up the other day."

"Okay," Bud whispered, tucking his head in the crook of Tolbert's neck. "I'm scared."

"I know. I'm sorry. Maybe that one wasn't the best one t' tell since ya ain't ever heard a ghost story before," Tolbert apologized.

"'S okay. You don't have to 'pologize."

"I know that. I want to apologize. It's not an apology if you don't want to," Tolbert told him. "It just means that you're really sorry. Though I was forced t' apologize a lot when I was a kid for hittin' one of our brothers."

Bud laughed, his shoulders shaking and his eyes squeezed shut while he laughed infectiously.

"What'd ya hit 'em for?"

"I usually had a good reason. Most of the time they'd start a fight and I'd be the one t' get in trouble 'cause I won. They'd go tattle t' Mama n Poppy, and I had to apologize."

"Ever hit me?" Bud peered up at him.

"Nope. You used t' hit me though. You're ten years younger than me, kiddo. It wouldn't look very good if I hit you back."

Bud burst into laughter.

"Somethin' funny?" Tolbert asked.

"Not at all," Bud snorted. "_Not at all._"

* * *

**_October 2016_**

Tolbert hadn't realized that telling Bud a ghost story would lead to what would become an annual thing on Friday nights. Ever since the power went out in June, the brothers had laid on the couch and Tolbert had told a ghost story, whether it be one he found online that was about a real person or one he made up himself. As it turned out, Bud liked to be scared.

On the first Friday of October, October 1st, to be exact, Calvin and Pharmer came over to hear one of Tolbert's ghost stories.

Tolbert had forgotten to tell Bud about it, so Bud came into the living room with wet hair, shirtless, and dressed in a pair of black sweatpants. At first, he didn't notice them. He flopped on the couch next to Tolbert, reaching behind the latter and grabbing the blanket he always used.

"Hey, Bud," Pharmer beamed.

"Hey," Bud mumbled, unfolding the blanket and spreading it out.

"Tolbert's told us 'bout how y'all tell ghost stories every Friday, so we figured we'd come by, since Tolbert ain't told us a good one in a while," Calvin spoke up, shooting Tolbert a stern look. Tolbert scoffed.

"When do I have the time t' stand around and tell you children ghost stories?" he sassed. Bud grabbed a soda off of the coffee table, leaning back and twisting the lid.

"Clearly ya have time t' tell 'em t' Bud," Pharmer piped up.

"On Friday night. We don't work weekends, remember?"

"Who cares about that?" Bud groaned. "Just tell the dang story already."

"Alright, alright. You want a real one or one that's made up?"

"Made up. They're always scarier when you make 'em up."

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing," Calvin said nervously. "Last time he made one up, the girls didn't sleep for thirty-six hours."

"That's b'cause they told me t' make it real scary and I did. I just did what they asked me t' do, and I still got chewed out for it," Tolbert elaborated. Turning to Bud, he added, "Never do anything the girls ask ya t' do. It'll just end with you gettin' chewed out by Mama or Poppy."

Bud, Calvin, and Pharmer all burst into laughter, Bud nearly choking on his drink. He coughed and continued to laugh.

"Would you just tell a story already? Before Bud ends up dead," Pharmer jested.

"Hey!" Bud cried indignantly, throwing a pillow at Pharmer's head. "I'll have you know I ain't gonna end up dead."

"Alright, children, alright. Let's see... It started on a cold winter's night in the late 1800s..."

* * *

Bud had fallen asleep halfway through the story. Tolbert could tell that Bud didn't feel well, so he paid him no mind, only adjusting the blanket after Bud curled up against his side and continuing with the story.

"—and he was never heard from again."

"Do you _always _make such creepy stories?" Pharmer grumbled.

"Mhm. Ain't gonna lie, I scared Bud pretty bad the first time I told him one. He'd never heard one before and... I probably shouldn't have made it as gruesome as I did," Tolbert admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

"You shouldn't have made that one as gruesome as ya did," Calvin murmured.

"If they scare ya that much, why do ya wanna hear 'em?"

"We like bein' scared," Pharmer shrugged. Tolbert only shook his head in response. "Is he alright?"

"Yeah. He don't feel good, though," Tolbert answered, combing his fingers through Bud's thick locks of hair. "Ya can tell when he don't. He usually don't run around the house shirtless unless it's about 90 degrees in here."

"The day the power went out?"

"Yeah. That happened t' be the night I told him that story."

"Which one was it?"

"The one 'bout Tyler n Sam. I don't think I've ever told it to y'all."

"No, ya ain't told it t' us. Will ya?"

"You sure you want me to? Y'all already look like you've actually seen a ghost," Tolbert quipped.

"Ha ha, very funny," Calvin remarked sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Just tell us the story."

* * *

Bud jerked awake to the sound of someone screaming. His eyes shot open and his hand clenched the fabric of Tolbert's shirt, his eyes landing on Calvin and Pharmer, both of whom were sitting on the floor.

"Would you relax?" Tolbert was trying to suppress laughter. "I ain't even done yet!"

"_What? _How could you possibly make that any worse than what ya already have?" Pharmer demanded.

"Well, if you'd shut up n let me finish it, you'd find out."

"Tol'ert, I don't feel s' good," Bud mumbled, swallowing thickly as bile rose in his throat.

"Here, we'll get ya int' bed and you can try t' sleep it off," Tolbert murmured softly. "Ya feel kinda warm. Can't tell if that's where you've been layin' against my shoulder or not though."

Bud nodded slightly. He got up and started to shuffle toward his room, Tolbert muttering under his breath while he got up and followed him. If he knew his brother, he wouldn't bother turning the lights on and he would fall and hurt himself.

Tolbert hit the switch before going to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and grabbing the bottle of NyQuil. He had a feeling Bud wasn't going to like it, but it would at least help him sleep. He hurried to Bud's room, reading the label to see how much he had to give him.

"Wha's that?" Bud pointed to it.

"Medicine. It'll help ya sleep and hopefully make ya feel better," Tolbert told him, forcing a small smile.

Bud grunted, pulling the covers over his head. Tolbert poured the dose and told Bud to sit up. Bud begrudgingly did as he was told, taking the medicine. He pulled a face, his nose scrunching in disgust, mumbling, "That's disgusting, Tol."

"I know," Tolbert chuckled. "There's not a lot of medicine that does taste good. Get some sleep, Buddy."

* * *

Bud stumbled into the kitchen around noon the next day. He sniffled before waving to Tolbert, who looked a mix of amused and concerned.

"What happened t' your hair?"

Bud shrugged. He didn't know and he honestly didn't care. He felt miserable; one second he was too hot, the next he was too cold, his stomach hurt, he felt nauseous, his throat was sore, his chest was sore, _and _he could hardly breathe. He wasn't sure what was worse and it bothered him.

"Ya don't look so good, Buddy. C'mere."

He shuffled over to Tolbert, whining quietly. Tolbert placed his hand against Bud's forehead, the boy's eyes fluttering shut. Tolbert hummed, his brows furrowing as his hand dropped. Bud whined. Tolbert's hand was cool against his hot, clammy skin and he felt a little better with Tolbert's hand on his skin.

Bud laid his head against Tolbert's shoulder, his breathing sounding more like wheezing.

"You're burnin' up," Tolbert murmured, brushing Bud's hair back. "Here, let me put this in your mouth."

"Wha—_mmph!_"

"Relax. It's fine. Just gotta wait for it t' beep."

"Hmm?" Bud hummed, his voice still somehow rising an octave or two.

"It's just checkin' your temperature. Find out if I gotta getcha t' the hospital or not."

"_Mmmmm._" Bud nodded, understanding now.

The thermometer beeped and Tolbert took it out of Bud's mouth. _103.4_

"Alright, listen, go change, darlin'," Tolbert ordered softly.

"Why?" Bud asked, still leaning against Tolbert.

"'Cause your fever is too high," Tolbert responded. "It'd probably be best t' take ya t' the doctor, get ya the medicine ya need, then let ya sleep all day."

"Oh... 'kay. Can I — can I shower first?"

"Yeah, kiddo. Go ahead an' shower, then we'll go t' MedExpress or somethin'."

"Or somethin'?" Bud shot him a funny look.

"Mhm. It's between MedExpress and the Pikeville Medical Center. Which do you prefer?"

"Which one's closer?"

"MedExpress."

"MedExpress." Bud turned and started to walk toward the doorway. He got dizzy and stumbled into it, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "Maybe the shower can wait."

"Yeah, I think that's best," Tolbert agreed. "'Cause if you break a bone, you're goin' to Pikeville."

Bud groaned. He'd been in Pikeville Medical Center twice since he returned; both on the days that he had been found. The first time, he'd been released that day. The second time, he'd been held captive for a few days. (Tolbert always laughed and said he wasn't held captive, but it felt that way to Bud.)

He staggered to his room, the wave of dizziness yet to pass. He dug through his dresser, pulling out a long-sleeve brown shirt and finding a pair of jeans. He changed and moved toward the corner where his sneakers and boots were. He grabbed his sneakers, going over to his bed and sitting down on it.

His shoes sat on the mattress beside him, and he tightly clenched the sheet in his hands. He'd never felt so weird in his life, that much he was certain of. Even when he was on the pain medicine after he'd gotten shot, he didn't feel nearly as funny as he did now.

Bud swallowed thickly and shook his head. He was _fine. _He just had to get his shoes on and go back to the kitchen. So he put his shoes on and grumbled over the laces. He still hadn't fully gotten the hang of tying them, and he wasn't sure he could with the way he felt. He felt like the bed was spinning; no, the entire room was. Maybe even the whole house, he wasn't really sure. All he knew was that it felt like it was spinning around and around again with no intention of stopping.

He stood up, swaying and catching himself on the bedpost. Tolbert came into view, and he joined in the spinning. Bud squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head, making a noise in the back of his throat.

"Bud? You alright?" Tolbert queried, placing his hands on Bud's biceps.

"Uh-uh," Bud shook his head, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Room's spinnin'."

"I've got ya, I've got ya, just let go of it," Tolbert assured him. Bud did as he was told, releasing the bedpost. He took a step toward Tolbert, forcing his eyes open.

"Oh... I don't — I don't feel s' good."

"What d'ya mean? Ya feel like you're gonna throw up or ya just don't feel good?"

"I don't know," Bud whimpered, laying his head against Tolbert's shoulder.

"That's fine. We'll get goin' and hope ya don't throw up," Tolbert muttered, wrapping one arm around Bud. Bud stood upright, the dizziness beginning to cease. "Ya alright now?"

"I think so," he mumbled.

"Alright, well, you walk in front of me. I'll catch ya if ya fall."

* * *

As it turned out, Bud had contracted the flu. It wasn't anything serious and was easily treated, though it was recommended that Bud stay inside away from people for a while.

The doctor had explained that Bud still had a weak immune system, and therefore caught diseases easier than most people. It also made it worse when the immune system wasn't strong enough to fight the disease, leaving Bud with a high fever and every other symptom that came with the flu.

They had been told that they could leave, so Bud scooted off of the examination table, making a face at the loud rustling paper.

"What's that for anyways?"

"Sanitary reasons. Once we leave they'll rip that off and put more on it. Keeps it clean or somethin', I don't know."

Bud coughed a laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement and pain.

"That hurt," he coughed. He hacked and rubbed his chest, taking a deep breath once he'd finished coughing. "So did that."

"Sounded like it," Tolbert said sympathetically. "Let's go get your medicine and getcha home."

* * *

Tolbert had let Bud pick the music in the truck. He'd given him his phone, telling him he could play whatever music he wanted. That was how they ended up listening to Johnny Cash. Tolbert was less than surprised when _God's Gonna Cut You Down _started to play.

Whenever the two brothers listened to music at home, it was usually a mix of old country and bluegrass and Disney. Tolbert had started adding Disney music to his playlist when Bud started humming the songs under his breath. So now he listened to old country, bluegrass, and Disney. It was definitely a mix and his father had found it funny when it went from Johnny Cash to some Disney song in less than five seconds.

Bud shifted slightly in his seat, tapping his foot along to the rhythm and muttering the words under his breath. Tolbert glanced at him as he slowed to a stop.

"Why're we goin' t' Pikeville?"

"We ain't goin' t' Pikeville. We're goin' t' McCarr so we can get your prescriptions filled."

"Oh. Then we'll go home, right?"

"Yeah. Then we'll go home."

* * *

Bud hadn't really left his room in the last two days. He'd spent most of his time sleeping, and when he wasn't sleeping, he was throwing up, or sneezing, or complaining about how his chest hurt after he coughed. Tolbert had given him his medicine when he was supposed to — which also came with complaints — and the boy usually fell asleep not even ten minutes after taking it.

So when Bud came into Tolbert's room, a few teardrops racing down his face, Tolbert didn't tell him no. Bud curled up next to him and cried quietly, his head tucked in the crook of Tolbert's neck.

"It hurts," he whined softly.

"What does?"

"_Everything,_" Bud sobbed. "Ev'rythin' hurts, Tolbert."

Tolbert knew that nothing he said would help and would likely only make Bud feel worse, so he just played with Bud's hair.

"Why's it hurt s' much?"

"I don't know, Buddy. Usually it does hurt when someone gets sick. Ya get all achy n stuff and it's just... miserable."

Bud shifted slightly as Tolbert started to massage the back of his head. Tolbert wrapped his other arm around his brother, gently rubbing his back. Bud hummed, closing his eyes.

"What?" Tolbert chuckled.

"Feels good," Bud murmured.

"Good. I'm just tryin' t' get ya t' sleep."

"I ain't a baby," Bud grumbled. "'M just miserable."

"I know. 'S hard t' sleep when you're miserable," Tolbert muttered. Bud nodded in agreement. "Want me t' turn a movie on?"

"No," he groaned. "My head hurts."

"Alright, ya don't have t' be so dramatic," Tolbert jested. Bud jabbed his ribs, causing the older boy to grunt. "And ya really don't have t' jab my ribs."

"Then don't call me dramatic."

"Unbelievable," Tolbert scoffed. "I was just teasin' you."

"Mhm. Hey, Tolbert?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

Tolbert blinked in surprise. That was the first time Bud told him that he loved him. Tolbert wasn't sure how Bud had trusted him so quickly after what he'd lived through. He didn't know how he could love him when it hadn't even been a full year since Bud had been found.

"I love you too, Buddy."

* * *

Bud woke up in the middle of the night due to a nightmare. He huffed and turned over, screaming and nearly falling off of the bed when he came face to face with Tolbert, who was sleeping. Tolbert's eyes shot open, staring at Bud with wide eyes.

_How had Bud forgotten he was in Tolbert's room?_

"Are you okay?" Tolbert slurred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Bud nodded, taking deep breaths to try to calm himself.

Bud threw the covers off and ran out of the room. Tolbert got up and followed, finding his little brother in the bathroom, throwing up again.

"I don't understand how you have anything in you to throw up," Tolbert uttered, grabbing a washcloth and turning the water on in the sink.

"M-me either," Bud breathed as he slumped against the bathtub. He made a displeased noise in the back of his throat when Tolbert started to wipe his face with the washcloth.

"Ya done?" Tolbert queried.

"I dunno," he answered honestly. They sat there for a moment, until they were sure Bud wasn't going to throw up again.

Tolbert helped Bud to his feet. Bud murmured his thanks, moving to the sink and rinsing his mouth. He shuffled to his bedroom and told Tolbert goodnight, closing the door behind him.

* * *

The next day, Bud's fever went down a little, and Tolbert felt a little better. He had always been told that a fever of 103 or higher was dangerous and that he should go to the doctor if he ever got one. And when he'd read that Bud's was a little over 103, he panicked a little and took him straight to MedExpress.

But now he was a little better. He wasn't as achy as he had been the night before and he'd finally ventured out of his room and was now curled up on the couch beside Tolbert. Bud was watching whatever was on the TV (it sounded like one of the shopping channels) and Tolbert was busy doing the math for the week. He was the one who took care of the accounts and orders at his father's company.

He didn't pay attention to Bud when he wrapped his arms around his left arm and laid his head against Tolbert's shoulder. Tolbert glanced at him while his suspicion was confirmed. Bud was watching QVC for whatever reason he had. All Tolbert heard was that they had an exciting new item coming up, and then he stopped paying attention.

After about twenty-five minutes, Tolbert closed his laptop and rubbed his eyes. He hated doing accounts and orders, but it was extra money on his paycheck. He had a teenager to provide for now, and that teenager happened to be going through a growth spurt. Tolbert would buy him clothes and not even two weeks later, they would be too small on him. Tolbert was starting to consider buying the clothes a few sizes too big.

Tolbert had quickly dismissed the thought. He didn't mind buying Bud new clothes, although he was getting tired of the stares each time they went back to the store to figure out what size Bud needed and left with a few bags of clothes. At present, they were on the third week with these ones, and Tolbert was beginning to hope that they'd fit him for a while.

"Tolbert..."

"Hm?"

"If I eat somethin', will I throw up again?"

"Well, there's always that chance. Why don't ya let me make you some soup? That'll be easy on your stomach."

"Tolbert, I threw up after drinkin' water last night," Bud admitted quietly. "I don't know if that's gonna help much."

"Well, we'll try it. Your fever ain't as high as it was yesterday and ya seem t' be feelin' a little better."

"Yeah... my head ain't hurtin' like it was. And I can breathe a little better."

"Good. I'm glad you're breathin' better, kiddo."

"Why d'you call me that?" Bud asked suddenly.

"What, kiddo?" Tolbert looked down at him. Bud nodded. "I don't know. I call all of our siblings that, except Jim. Jim's the only one older than me."

"Does that make you an old man?" Bud tilted his head a little.

"Aw, that's just mean," Tolbert exclaimed, earning a laugh from Bud. "Find somethin' better to watch, will ya? I'm gonna go make ya some soup."

* * *

**_April 2017_**

Bud twirled the pencil in his hand, staring down at the paper in front of him. He wasn't entirely sure how to do it and he didn't want to bother Tolbert, who seemed to be in a bad mood. Bud didn't want to make it worse by saying anything, so he would just have to figure it out on his own.

"You done with that?" Tolbert asked, his voice kind of raspy.

"No," Bud murmured.

"Do you need help?"

"No! No, I got it."

Bud was still cautious when Tolbert was mad or in a bad mood. He didn't want to risk making him upset to the point he would hit him, so Bud usually kept his mouth shut and stayed in his room whenever Tolbert was mad. He was just extremely cautious with his words and movements when he was in a bad mood.

He didn't want to ruin the relationship with his brother and be the reason why Tolbert ended up hating him.

Bud knew that it was bound to happen eventually, but he wanted to push it off as long as he could. He'd allowed himself to trust Tolbert and he loved him. He was the one person Bud fully trusted in his life. And he wasn't ready to give it up yet. He wasn't sure he ever would be ready to give up his older brother, who meant the world to him.

Tolbert had taught Bud almost everything that he knew. He'd let the boy sleep in a bed, he'd bought him clothes, he let him eat and speak. Bud had yet to have been hit by Tolbert and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn't know why, but it always seemed that whenever he let his guard down, either something bad happened or someone would turn on him. (His master used to bring a friend with him for a while. The friend was kind at first, and had a funny white streak in his hair, but after Bud trusted him, he hurt him just like Master did.)

"Bud, if ya need help, just ask for it," Tolbert sighed tiredly.

"I don't!" Bud insisted.

Bud tried to force his hand to stop shaking. He shouldn't have been thinking about it. He should've just focused on the math worksheet in front of him and tried to do the addition. Instead, he was to the point where he could burst into tears for no apparent reason.

"My Lord, if you need help, just ask!" Tolbert snapped, slamming his hand against the table.

"'M sorry!" Bud cried, flinching away from Tolbert. "'M sorry, I c-can't do it."

Bud released the pencil from his grip. It clattered against the surface of the table, rolling toward the other side. He shoved himself away from the table and took off toward his room, ignoring Tolbert as he shut the door and locked it.

He sunk to the floor with his back against it, his knees pulled up to his chest and silent tears streaming down his face. He knew it would happen. He just didn't want to believe it. Everyone always ended up hating him eventually. It was inevitable — Bud just wasn't a lovable person.

And he hated himself for it. Bud wanted to be able to keep one person in his life without having to either be hurt by them or losing them due to their hatred for him. He didn't know what it was about him that made people hate him so much, but he had dared to hope that it would be different. His chest collapsed with a broken sob that escaped through his lips, Bud leaning his head back against the door. _Why couldn't he be lovable?_

He should have known that it was all too good to be true. He'd found his family again and was living with his older brother, who had told Bud time and time again that he'd never hurt him intentionally. He should have known it was a lie. It was the same lie that had been uttered to him while he was still with his master. He should've known better than to let his guard down. Yet he did it, and now he was almost certain Tolbert hated him.

Bud had allowed himself to get too close to Tolbert. He hadn't been careful and he'd let his guard down almost immediately, letting Tolbert in and trusting him. Bud never should have let his guard down. Then he wouldn't be in this situation.

He wasn't sure what he could do. He didn't want to do anything that could potentially make it worse, but he didn't know what could possibly make it any worse. He'd learned his lesson: Never trust anybody, never love anybody, never let your guard down.

He _knew _better. Why couldn't he do something that would save him heartache and pain? Why did he have to be so naïve and stupid? Bud _knew better._

* * *

Tolbert hadn't left the kitchen. He had a feeling that Bud had locked the door to his room and that he would ignore him if Tolbert did try to talk to him, so he figured he could give him a little bit of time to calm down.

He felt horrible. He hadn't meant to lose his temper. He was just having a rough day and everything seemed to be going wrong. The last thing he'd wanted to do was lose his temper with Bud.

Tolbert hated that he had scared Bud so badly. He hated the way he could see the fear shining in his eyes while he sputtered out an apology before running off, leaving Tolbert alone. He hated that his little brother had flinched away from him.

He wasn't sure what he could do to get back to where he was with Bud. Bud had been fully honest and easy to read, and Tolbert had a horrible notion that they'd just flown back to square one. And Tolbert was the one to blame for it. Bud hadn't done anything wrong and Tolbert had lost his temper.

Tolbert only hoped he could fix it.

* * *

Bud woke up lying on the floor. His eyes burned, and it took a moment for his brain to process why. Once he remembered, the thought of leaving the room was quickly dismissed as a stupid one. He didn't want to make Tolbert mad again.

He pushed himself off of the floor and shuffled over to his bed, flopping onto it and shoving his face into the pillow before he started to cry again. He couldn't do anything right. He was always the reason he got hit or the reason why people wound up hating him. Bud couldn't do a single thing right.

He hated to think of how Tolbert might tell him he had to leave. Then where would he go? Bud couldn't very well show up at Ran'l and Sally's to tell them what was going on; then they'd just be mad at Tolbert and it would make it worse because _it wasn't Tolbert's fault._

Bud's self-esteem seemed to crumble then. He was worthless and his clothes were too tight and everything that had happened was his fault. He swallowed thickly before getting up, grabbing the biggest hoodie he had and the baggiest sweatpants. He swiftly changed out of his t-shirt and shorts, folding them before putting them back in the dresser. He hadn't worn them for very long and they weren't dirty, so he was sure it would be fine.

And after thinking on it for a moment, he unlocked the door. He was probably making the situation worse by keeping it locked.

He went back to his bed and crawled into the center of it, keeping his back toward the door. He'd rather not see Tolbert if he came in mad at him, ready to beat him senseless. Bud clenched his jaw tightly. He'd done nothing but set himself up for pain and destruction.

It was something that bothered Bud to no end. He had been stupid enough to allow himself to love again, and it was going to end the same way it had the last time he'd done it. He wasn't ready to let go of Tolbert. He wasn't ready to accept that Tolbert was going to hurt him just like the others had.

There was still a small part of him that hoped that Tolbert wouldn't hurt him. A small part of him wanted to find Tolbert and apologize. After all, he had been the one to make Tolbert mad. He was the one at fault with this entire situation. If he had just attempted to do the addition worksheet without getting distracted, they could have avoided this.

Bud sniffed and shifted slightly. He hoped that Tolbert wasn't mad when he came into the room. If he was, he'd likely regret whatever it was that he did.

* * *

Bud was half-asleep when the door creaked open. He listened to Tolbert step inside and close the door, and listened to him as he approached the bed. Bud's breathing hitched in his throat. He tried to brace himself for whatever was about to happen, but he doubted it would make much of a difference.

"Bud? Hey," Tolbert gently set his hand on Bud's shoulder. Bud flinched away from him.

"Don't, please," he whispered brokenly. "Not you."

"What... what do you mean?"

"I don't want t' hear you say it," Bud sobbed. "Please don't say it."

"Say what?"

"Quit messin' with me n just get it over with."

"Get what over with?" Tolbert asked exasperatedly.

"Yell, scream, beat me, I don't care. Just get it over with," Bud responded, his voice drained of any emotion.

"Why would I do any of that?"

"Ev'rybody does 'ventually. Shoulda known this was all too good t' be true."

Tolbert sighed. He wasn't going to hurt Bud. He could even fathom the thought of hurting him. Bud had been through the unimaginable and Tolbert needed to find a way to fix the ridge that was now between them.

"Just do it, Tolbert," Bud sighed heavily. "I promise ya I won't fight back. I'll just take it."

"Bud, I ain't—"

"_Don't!_" Bud screeched. "Don't lie t' me no more. Jus' do it n get it over with so we can go on with our days."

"My Lord, Bud, if I wanted t' hit ya, I woulda done it in the kitchen!" Tolbert shouted. Bud flinched. "I ain't a-lyin' t' you an' I have no intention of hittin' you. Now, if ya know what's good for ya, you'll stop talkin'!"

"And what're ya gonna do if I don't?" Bud sassed. "Ya just said ya have no intention of hittin' me, so _what _are you gonna do?"

"I'll make an exception and hit ya," Tolbert retorted. "Don't think that I won't."

"You ain't gonna do squat, Tolbert. Ya sit around n say you ain't lyin' then turn around and do it. Ya ain't nothin' but a hypocrite!"

"I ain't no hypocrite!" Tolbert looked highly insulted. "I said I would make an exception with it. There's a difference."

"No there ain't."

"Yes, there is!"

Bud huffed and rolled his eyes as he rolled onto his back. He'd said what he said, and he wasn't going to take it back. Tolbert couldn't make him.

"I honestly don't know what you want. I've laid here for I don't even know how long and you've had every opportunity to beat me senseless. So what do you want, Tolbert? If ya don't want nothin', get out!"

Tolbert didn't know why, but all he could see was red. He couldn't feel and he couldn't see, but he did hear Bud's pained yelp. It was what brought him out of it. It shocked him to see Bud glaring at him. Then he noticed the red mark on Bud's face. It kind of looked the way it would have if he had swung at Bud.

"I didn't," he mumbled.

"Just finish it. It's always worse when they say they'll come back later. Just do it now," Bud cried.

"Nonononono, I didn't... oh my God, I'm so sorry," Tolbert stumbled over his words, desperate to find a way to explain what had happened. He hadn't meant to hit Bud.

"It's fine, I'm used to it," Bud uttered, wiping at the tears that rolled down his face. "I'm not lovable an' not good for anything 'cept actin' like a punching bag. I always mess it up."

"No, Bud, ya didn't do a thing wrong," Tolbert disagreed. "I'm so sorry. I-I have this thing when I get mad where all I can see is red an' I don't know what's goin' on. I am so sorry, kiddo."

Bud shook his head. He was used to it; he didn't need Tolbert to apologize to him. It was normal for him. He would make someone mad, they would hit him or beat him senseless, and he'd try not to do it again. It was an endless cycle.

Bud rolled over onto his side, his back facing Tolbert. He didn't want to believe that it had happened. He didn't want to think that Tolbert had punched him as hard as he could across the face and that he'd looked so angry when he did it. It scared Bud.

"I'm sorry, Bud. I'll... I'll go now."

He heard the door click shut and he broke, his chest heaving with sobs. He didn't want to believe it. Everything was going to go back to the way it was before he met Tolbert.

He should've known better. Bud should have known that he couldn't trust anyone, that he couldn't let his guard down to let people in. He always ended up getting hurt when he did. And now, he truly was hurting. He didn't think a person's heart could hurt so much.

His master had been right; Bud was worthless, stupid, and unlovable.

* * *

Tolbert shakily unlocked the door and opened it, revealing Sally. Tolbert tried to force his tears back, to keep them at bay, and stepped back so his mother could come in. He didn't know why she was there, but he certainly wasn't complaining. If anybody knew what to do, it would be Sally McCoy.

"Where's Bud?" Sally asked after looking around and not seeing any trace of the boy.

"He's in his room," Tolbert replied, trying (and failing) to keep his voice level. "Mama, I really need t' talk to ya."

Sally nodded and followed Tolbert to the living room, where they both sat down on the couch.

"What's the matter, Tolbert?" Sally reached out, gently placing a hand on her son's knee.

"I got myself in a awful mess," Tolbert burst into a sob. "Bud prob'ly hates me now and I can't say he's wrong for it."

"What happened?"

"We were in the kitchen earlier, an' he was doin' a worksheet. I got mad and scared him. He went to his room n I stayed in the kitchen. Well, I went to talk to him, got mad n saw red, and—and I hit him, Mama," Tolbert's voice dropped to a broken whisper. "_I hit him _and he didn't even fight back. He thought I was in there t' hurt him anyways, told me I could yell, scream, beat him, he didn't care. Said he wouldn't fight back none."

"Why'd ya hit him?"

"We got into it. All I know's I saw red an' then I hear him yelp. I punched him across his face, Mama, an' all he said was that he was used to it an' deserved worse than that. I don't know what t' do," Tolbert cried, laying his head on Sally's shoulder.

Sally rubbed Tolbert's back, paying no mind to him while he cried. Tolbert didn't cry very often, and when he did, it was never in front of her, so she didn't care if her shirt was now damp because of his tears. Tolbert wasn't the type to show his distress and when he did, Sally knew he didn't know what he could possibly do to fix whatever the problem was.

"I don't want him t' hate me," Tolbert whimpered. "I jus' got him back. I don't wanna lose him so soon."

"It'll be alright. You've got to _breathe, _Tolbert," Sally said softly. "Just give him a bit of time t' calm down, then try t' talk to him. Does he know 'bout you seein' nothin' but red when ya get real mad?"

"No," he mumbled. "I don't wanna lose him, Mama. I've lost him twice already an' I don't wanna lose him 'gain."

"I know, darlin'," Sally continued to rub his back. "Ya ain't gonna lose him. You two just have t' figure out how to avoid this happenin' again. Bud loves ya, Tolbert. He won't stay away from ya forever."

"Mama, you didn't see the way he looked at me." Tolbert shook his head and swallowed thickly. "It was _horr'ble._"

"It'll be alright, darlin'," Sally assured him. "Just calm down a little. Everything will be _fine._"

"I hope so, Mama."

* * *

After managing to somewhat calm Tolbert down, Sally got up and went to Bud's room. She knocked before cracking the door open, finding Bud laying in the middle of his bed.

"Mama?" he whispered, sniffling and sitting up. "What're you doin' here?"

"I came t' see you n your brother," Sally answered as she crossed the room, sitting down beside him. "He told me 'bout what happened. Are you alright?"

Bud nodded mutely. He was fine. He was always fine.

"Bud, it's okay if you're not," Sally gently cupped his cheek. Bud's breathing hitched and he flinched, almost wrenching himself away from his mother.

"Please don't hurt me," he pleaded, lowering his gaze to his hands, which were lying limply in his lap. "I-I don't wanna be hurt no more."

"No one's gonna hurt ya. C'mere."

Bud scooted closer to Sally, curling up next to her with his head on her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her. Sally tucked a loose curl behind Bud's ear, noticing how the boy tensed.

"Tolbert didn't mean t' hurt ya. When he gets mad, he sees nothin' but red. He's workin' on controllin' that hot-headed temper of his, but it's a work in progress. By the time he realizes what he's doin' or what he's done, it's always too late to fix it." She paused for a second, her hand still resting on Bud's reddened cheek. She gently rubbed it, asking, "Does it still hurt?"

"A little," Bud admitted. "Not... not too much."

"Alright, why don't ya talk to me? I promise I won't tell nobody."

"It just... it just really _hurts, _Mama," Bud sobbed, tucking his face in the crook of her neck. "I don't — I don't think my heart is s'pposed t' feel like it's in a million pieces. I tried t' act like I didn't care n it just made it worse. I ended up makin' him madder than what he already was an' he hit me. 'S fine, though. I'm used to it."

"It's not fine, Bud," Sally argued. "No one has any right to hurt you just because they're mad."

Sally moved her hand to Bud's bicep, the boy's legs thrown over her lap. He was as close as he could possibly get to her, trying to stop his tears.

"It jus' feels like every time I let myself trust someone an' love them, I end up gettin' hurt," Bud sniffled. "I let myself get too close, Mama. I knew better, but I still let my guard down an' now I'm hurt again."

"You didn't let yourself get too close. Tolbert's the one at fault this time, and I'm sure he'll apologize once he gets a grip on his emotions. He's locked himself in his room."

"Why?"

"He's scared he's gonna lose ya. He loves you, baby. And you love him too. You're just scared."

"'M not a baby," he murmured tiredly.

"You're my youngest son, Bud. That makes you my baby boy. And to me, you will always be my baby," Sally chuckled, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. Bud laughed softly, closing his eyes.

He wasn't sure why he was so exhausted all of a sudden, but he struggled to keep his eyes open all the same.

"'M real tired, Mama," Bud mumbled sleepily. "Is Tol'ert okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine. He's just doin' what you were doin'."

Bud's brows furrowed. Tolbert was crying? Why on earth would Tolbert be crying?

"He said he'll talk to ya later. Right now, he's trying to cope with the fact that he hit ya. Just give him a while n he'll be fine."

"Y' sure?" Bud craned his neck to look at her.

"Yeah, darlin'. I'm sure," Sally nodded. "Both of ya will be fine. And you'll both be talkin' to each other again like nothin' happened by the end of the week."

"How d'ya know that?" Bud peered at her innocently, putting her in mind of a small child.

"'Cause you an' Tolbert are like your Poppy n his little brother Harmon. Ya got a bond b'tween ya that nothin' in this world will break. You're thicker than thieves an' ya love each other s' much that ya'd do anything for t' other. Don't you worry none. It'll all be alright."

Bud nodded slightly, trying to stay awake.

"Here, I'll leave ya alone now. Get some sleep, hm? You look exhausted."

"Mkay. Thanks, Mama."

* * *

Tolbert anxiously rubbed his hands together, trying to quell the anxiety that washed over him. He gently rapped on the door with his knuckle. He didn't receive a response.

"Bud?" Tolbert pushed the door open and peered inside the dark room, seeing a lump on the floor with a single blanket and what looked like a pillow. Tolbert, not believing his eyes, flicked the light on and stepped inside, sighing as he approached him.

He didn't know why Bud was sleeping on the floor, and he wasn't sure he wanted to, but he acknowledged the fact that it would probably hurt Bud's back. So he bent down and wrestled the boy into his arms, miraculously not waking him, and carried him to the bed.

Bud exhaled deeply as he was laid on the bed, stirring. Tolbert went back and grabbed the pillow and blanket. He tucked Bud in and lifted his head, slipping the pillow underneath it.

"Mmmm... Tol'ert? Whatcha doin' here?" Bud murmured groggily, his words slurring together.

"I came in t' talk t' ya and found ya sleepin' on the floor instead. I moved ya back t' your bed," Tolbert told him, earning a sleepy smile.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, kiddo," Tolbert suppressed a laugh. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, "Go back t' sleep."

Bud stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

"I don't wanna," he whined, grabbing Tolbert's arm and sitting up. "'M sorry for what I did earlier."

"No, no, don't you apologize. You did _nothing_ wrong, Bud," Tolbert sat on the edge of the bed and gently grasped Bud's shoulders. "I'm the one that should be apologizin'."

"But I made you mad."

"And it didn't give me no right t' hit you like that. I'm sorry, Buddy. I don't know what made me do it, and I didn't realize I'd done it 'til after you yelled. I don't wanna lose ya, kiddo. I jus' got ya back."

"Ya ain't losin' me," Bud muttered. "I love ya, Tol."

"I love you too, kiddo. Now go back t' sleep b'fore ya fall over."

Bud agreed and laid down again, turning onto his side while Tolbert got up.

"Night, Bud."

"Night."

* * *

"Mornin', Buddy. Want somethin' t' eat?"

Bud shook his head. He wasn't hungry.

"Alright... you want somethin' to drink?" Tolbert offered, observing him while he sat down at the table. Again, Bud shook his head. "What's wrong with ya?"

"Nothin'," he fibbed. Tolbert nearly groaned at the obvious lie. If there was one thing Bud couldn't do, it was lie.

"Yeah, totally believe that one. Now how about the truth this time?"

"I'm sorry for what happened yesterday," he murmured. Tolbert hummed. He'd suspected that Bud might not remember their conversation, as the boy had been barely conscious, and had expected the morning to start like this. "I had no right to say any of that t' you. I'm really sorry."

"Don't worry about it. We've already had this conversation."

"No, we haven't," Bud shot Tolbert a strange look.

"Yeah, we did. It was after I picked you up off of the floor and put ya back in your bed. You were half-asleep, barely conscious. But I s'ppose I can try to remember my side of it."

"Oh..."

"You ain't the one that should be apologizin'. It was all on me. I'm sorry for what I did to ya, and I promise I'll try not to do it again."

"That's the short version, ain't it?" Bud quipped, rolling the sleeves of his hoodie up.

"Yeah," Tolbert chuckled. "That's the short version."

"Well... I reckon I can forgive ya."

"Good. Now c'mere and let me see your face."

Bud did as he was told, shuffling over to Tolbert and letting him turn his head so he could easily see Bud's left cheek. It was starting to bruise, the red becoming a mix of purple and blue.

"Mm... Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore."

"I'm sorry. I really am—"

"I know. It's alright. I love you, Tolbert," Bud muttered, hugging Tolbert tightly.

"I love you too, Bud."

* * *

**_July 2017_**

Tolbert looked up at Calvin, who looked a mix between irritated and remorseful.

"I can't, Tolbert," he sighed, sitting down beside him. "I love him, I do, but he just ain't gettin' it."

"He's not?" Tolbert's brows furrowed in bewilderment. "I figured he'd do well with it."

"Well, he ain't," Calvin hissed.

"You just don't know how to make him understand," Tolbert said knowingly. "He's still like a child in many ways. Understanding things is one of them. Now, I know that look, what did you do?"

"He went off on a tangent about not hitting him when I got mad. I told him if he didn't shut up, I would hit him, and I've never seen someone look so heartbroken in my life. He knows how t' make ya feel bad."

"What made you do a thing like that?" Tolbert growled through gritted teeth, smacking the side of Calvin's head.

"I don't know! I thought it would make him stop!"

"Where is he?"

"Out there with Pharmer."

Tolbert sighed as he got up, leaving the office and approaching Pharmer and Bud.

Bud was the first to see Tolbert. He took off in a sprint, nearly tackling Tolbert. Tolbert wrapped his arms around him, knowing that Bud was still panicky and likely would be for a while. Judging by the pallor of Pharmer's face, Bud had told him something that Pharmer didn't necessarily like to hear.

"Hey, hey, shh... it's okay now, it's okay," Tolbert shushed him, pulling his fingers through Bud's thick locks of brunette hair. "No one's gonna hurt ya, Buddy, I won't let 'em."

"I'm sorry, I didn't — I didn't know it was so hard," Bud rambled. "I didn't know I'd mess it up so bad!"

"Hey, listen to me. Are you listenin' to me?" Tolbert pushed him away, forcing the boy to look at him. "It's alright. It's not that big of a deal. So ya can't use a label maker right, it ain't a big deal. We'll find somethin' else for ya to do. Ya can even help me with files and stuff in the office if that's what you want."

"Please," Bud whispered. "I don't think I can do any of this." He gestured to the area around them.

"You will eventually. Timberin' work is hard work," Tolbert told him, slinging an arm over his shoulder. "You'll be fine, kiddo."

"But I messed it all up an' Calvin got mad an'—"

"Don't you worry about any of that. Ya didn't mess up a thing. Look, there's still labels, and we've still got an hour and a half t' go before we get to leave. Why don't ya come help me in the office for a while?"

"Okay," Bud agreed, nodding his head slightly. "But... Pharmer!"

"He'll be fine. Calvin's comin' back out, see?" Tolbert pointed at the office, which Calvin had just exited. "We'll start ya off with the easy work around here. It was a bad idea t' throw ya straight into that."

"Oh, now you realize that," Calvin remarked as he walked by them.

"Was I talkin' to you?"

"Tolbert, don't fight him again," Bud chortled. "Though it was kinda funny last time. I didn't know Calvin could scream like a girl."

"_Hey!_"

Three out of the four McCoy boys burst into laughter, one running inside the office before Calvin could decide to go after him again.

* * *

Tolbert was tired. He'd barely had any sleep that week and for some unknown reason, Ran'l's timbering company suddenly became extremely busy during that week. Tolbert couldn't help but think it was a horrible week for it to happen since he could barely stay awake and had been asked to "speak up" a few times when he accepted a call.

But he had promised Bud that he would take him out before they went back home to tell ghost stories to each other (Bud had started making his own and reading lots of them online). So that was how he ended up at Hardee's, where Bud was munching on a fry. Tolbert sipped his drink, blinking a few times to wake himself up.

"Are you okay?" Bud leaned in, speaking quietly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired," Tolbert smiled at him. "Don't worry none. Eat your food."

Bud looked uncertain, but he didn't say any more on the subject. Instead, he took a bite of his burger and let the matter drop. He grabbed another fry, glancing at Tolbert, who looked half-asleep.

Tolbert's eyes fixated on Bud, shifting slightly in his seat. Bud lowered his gaze quickly, but could still feel Tolbert's gaze on him.

"I can't eat no more," Bud said quietly, his eyes flicking between Tolbert and the table.

"Alright, that's fine. C'mon, we can go home now if ya want to."

Bud nodded and slid out of his seat, taking the tray and walking over to the trash can. He dumped it and set the tray on top, then followed Tolbert out of the restaurant.

* * *

Bud was worried about Tolbert. He'd never seen him the way he was now, and it was something he would prefer not to see again.

"Tol... you feelin' alright?" Bud questioned.

"Hm? Yeah. 'M just real tired, Buddy," Tolbert replied with a heavy sigh.

Bud, not knowing of anything else to do, quickly embraced Tolbert, letting his older brother lean on him. Bud was nearly as tall as Tolbert was now, and it made it easier for him to lean against Bud.

"Why don't ya get some sleep then?" Bud suggested.

"I'm supposed to take care of you. Not you take care of me."

"Tolbert, I'm pretty sure you'd collapse if ya tried t' do anythin' else," Bud deadpanned.

"Yeah, you're prob'ly right," Tolbert laughed breathlessly. "I'm s' tired."

"Alright then, we'll getcha back t' bed. I've just gotta make sure you don't fall an' crack your head open."

"What a lovely way of putting it, Bud," Tolbert mumbled.

"You've told me to always be honest. I'm just bein' honest," Bud shrugged innocently, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

"I'm too tired for this," Tolbert shook his head, starting to walk down the hall. "One thing. Why d'you care?"

"You've always been there for me. Won't hurt t' be there for you."

Tolbert smiled slightly while they both walked down the hall.

"I reckon that's a good reason," he said after a moment, opening the door to his room. "I don't mind bein' here for you. Ya've been through somethin' unimaginable and I have to say that I admire ya for it. There's no way I could be nearly as trusting as you are if I went through what you did. You're a good kid. Don't ever change." Tolbert ruffled Bud's hair.

"Not including the incident, have you ever given me a reason not t' trust you?"

"Guess not," Tolbert shrugged, pulling his shirt over his head. "Can't say I really know."

"Ya haven't. And ya don't care when I come runnin' in here b'cause of a nightmare. I don't know what I'd do without ya, Tol."

Tolbert shrugged and flopped on his bed.

"I don't know about you, kiddo, but I'm goin' t' sleep. Don't do anythin' stupid, please."

"I won't," Bud laughed. "Get some sleep. You look like a zombie."

"_Hey!_"


	4. Hear the Angels Cry (Modern AU)

**_November 2017_**

Bud huffed as he shifted in the uncomfortable seat, his eyes glued to the floor. He had never liked the principal's office. At least now he had a reason why.

"You boys have got to stop this. And this time, I have to call your parents," Mr. Smith sighed.

Bud's heart leaped to his throat. He couldn't call his parents. They would _kill him _if they found out he'd been in a fight.

"Please don't call my parents, sir."

"Who am I supposed to call, Randolph?" Mr. Smith asked harshly.

"My brother. Tolbert McCoy. H-he's on the list of contacts," Bud stammered. He'd rather deal with an angry Tolbert than an angry Ran'l. Or at least, he thought that's what he'd rather deal with. He really wasn't sure. All he knew was that he didn't want his father knowing just yet.

* * *

Tolbert sighed as he pulled into the high school parking lot. He'd gotten a call saying that Bud had been in a fight and that he had to come to the school.

So Tolbert did.

It wasn't how he had planned to spend his day off, and he was angry over it, but he would try to control his temper. Bud hardly ever did anything irrational, so hearing that he had been the one to start the fight was shocking, to say the least. He figured the least he could do was give Bud a chance to explain himself before losing his temper.

Entering the school, he went straight to the office. After finding out Bud was in the office directly behind the desk, he thanked the secretary and moved to the door, rapping on it with his knuckle before opening it.

"I assume you're here for Randolph?"

"Yes, sir."

Tolbert's eyes landed on his brother, who looked like he'd been beaten to a bloody pulp. He kept his gaze fixated on the floor, refusing to lift it. Tolbert closed the door and sat down in the chair beside Bud.

"Mr. Johnson's parents have already picked him up, but he claims that your brother started the fight, Mr. McCoy. We don't tolerate that kinda behavior here," Mr. Smith told him, leaning forward slightly. "And since he won't talk, I've decided t' give him the same punishment as Mr. Williams. Seven days of out of school suspension. Your brother is a good student, Mr. McCoy. I would hate for him to start failing due to something like this."

Tolbert looked over at Bud, who was biting down on his lip.

"Thank you, Mr. Smith. I'm sure he won't do it again," Tolbert shot the boy a glare.

"Glad t' hear. You're free t' go."

Bud picked up his backpack and slipped one arm through a strap, walking to the door. Tolbert was right behind him. He could feel the anger that was rolling off of Tolbert in waves. It made Bud nervous.

With a trembling hand, he pushed open the door and stepped outside, taking a shaky breath to calm himself. He wished that Tolbert wasn't so mad. He had always hated it when Tolbert was mad and wouldn't say anything. It usually meant that it was very bad for the person he was mad at, and in this case, it was Bud.

They made it halfway across the parking lot before Tolbert spoke up.

"You wanna tell me why you're startin' fights?"

Bud stayed silent. He didn't start a fight. He didn't even throw a punch. He'd just taken the beating and the blame. He knew it would have been worse on him if he hadn't; William Johnson was the school's star athlete and he never did anything wrong. Randolph McCoy, Junior was just a weird kid that kept to himself and read and wrote in his notebook. William Johnson had a multitude of friends while Randolph had none. No one wanted to be friends with someone like him.

And Bud supposed the rumors had something to do with it too. Rumors had spread that Bud was a backstabbing person who would be kind to them to their face and then talk about them behind their back. It wasn't true, just like all of the other rumors weren't true, but he kept his mouth shut. He had no right to say they weren't.

"Well now, dagon it, Bud! Quit ignorin' me!"

"I'm sorry," he flinched away from Tolbert, who had fallen into pace beside him.

"What's the matter with you?" Tolbert's voice became softer and quieter.

"Nothin'. Jus' sore," Bud fibbed, sliding his backpack off of his shoulder. He threw it in the backseat before climbing into the front.

Bud was worthless. Plenty of people had told him so, and he'd gotten to the point that he believed every word they said. Maybe that was why Bud hadn't eaten for three weeks.

"We're talkin' about this when we get home."

"Alright," Bud whispered softly.

* * *

"What is the matter with you?!" Tolbert roared. "Did ya not think that we wouldn't find out about it, Bud?"

"I'm sorry, I—"

"No! For once in yer life, yer gonna listen t' me. Is that clear?" Tolbert started to inch toward him.

Bud's throat closed up. He looked at Tolbert through tear-filled eyes, trying to form an answer.

"I said, _is that clear?!_" Tolbert shouted. Bud tightly gripped the counter behind him and started to move away.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

"Sorry don't fix everything, Bud! What am I gonna tell Mama n Poppy? Huh? What was goin' through that thick head o' yours?!"

Bud stumbled and fell to the floor, curling up into a ball. His trembling hands tightly gripped his hair, his body shaking as he sobbed.

"'M sorry, 'm so sorry. Please don't hurt me."

"Oh, you know darn good an' well I ain't gonna hurt you!" Tolbert yelled. "I might want to, but I'm not gonna."

"Please don't," Bud whimpered. "I don't — I don't wanna get hurt no more."

"Bud," Tolbert forced his voice to be softer. "Why'd ya start that fight?"

"I didn't!"

"Bud, yer principal said—"

"I know what he said!" Bud lifted his head. Quieter, he said, "I didn't do a thing, Tol. I just took it."

"Took what?"

"The beating and the blame. It goes over a lot better for me that way," Bud stated, wiping furiously at his eyes.

"Let me see your hands."

"What?"

"Let me see your hands," Tolbert repeated. Bud huffed and did as he was told. Tolbert gazed at them for a second, his thumb running over Bud's knuckles. "My God, Bud, why didn't ya say somethin'?"

"William Johnson can do no wrong in their eyes, Tolbert. He's the star athlete with over a hundred friends and I'm just the weird kid with no friends. None. Who's gonna believe me over him and all of his friends? Not a_ single soul _would believe me, Tolbert! Why make it worse on me by sayin' I didn't start it?"

"What d'you mean ya ain't got no friends?" Tolbert's anger dissipated, his voice soft and concerned.

"I mean I ain't got no dagon friends, Tolbert," Bud admitted, his voice rising in pitch. "Nobody wants t' be friends with a freak."

"Ya ain't no freak, Bud. Where'd ya get that idea?"

"William Johnson n his friends. They're always sayin' stuff t' me."

"What kinda stuff, Bud?" Tolbert pressed, gently placing one hand on the boy's shoulder.

"It don't matter."

"Yes, it does. It matters a lot. Now what did they say?"

"That-that I'm worthless an' unloved... an-an' I'm too fat. And it's _true, _Tolbert, it's true! L-look at me! I-I'm too fat, too tall, my hair is always a mess, my eyes are a terr'ble shade of green, I cry too much, an-an' no one loves me, Tolbert. I could disappear off the face of the earth and not a single person would notice. Nobody loves me."

"No, Buddy, no," Tolbert shook his head. "I love ya. So does Mama n Poppy, an' every single one of our siblings. You are perfect the way ya are, Bud. I wouldn't want ya no other way."

"Why?" Bud cried. "Why would ya want an ornery, fat pig who's gonna make the foundation of the school crack?"

Tolbert's heart shattered. Surely they hadn't told him that. Bud was a good kid; he didn't need anyone telling him he was anything less. Bud had always been self-conscious, and he'd never liked being the center of attention. He hated seeing one of the sweetest, kindhearted people he knew just crumble in front of him.

"Oh, Buddy," Tolbert breathed.

"An' I'm _tryin' _t' lose weight, I really am. It's not workin'. I-I've stopped eatin' completely and it hasn't helped much either. I've dropped a few pounds an-and they still tell me I-I'm an ornery, fat pig, Tolbert. Why won't it work?"

"Bud, darlin', you can't just quit eatin'. That's — oh my God," Tolbert stumbled over his words, pulling his baby brother into a tight hug. "You ain't an ornery, fat pig. You're perfect, you hear me? You're _perfect. _Y-ya ain't worthless, or unloved, or-or fat. Yer perfect, Buddy, ya really are. Yer the best outta all of us, kid. We don't want ya t' change."

"'S okay, Tol," he sniffed. "Ya ain't gotta lie t' me. I know I am."

"I ain't lyin' t' you, Buddy. I promised ya when you were little that I wouldn't ever lie t' ya, an' I intend t' keep my promise. I'm so sorry ya gotta go through this, Bud. Yer one of the sweetest people I know."

"Don't say that," Bud shook his head, his voice strained.

"Why not?"

"It-it means ya care, and—and no one should care about me. All I do is make a mess of everythin' an' it makes everyone hate me. Don't say ya care, Tolbert."

"Bud, I do care. I've cared about ya from the second you was born. You're my baby brother, my _fav'rite _brother, and I love ya a whole lot. No matter what William Johnson or anybody else says, Buddy, I love ya."

"I-I'm your favorite?" Bud asked softly, his voice filled with disbelief. "That—that can't be right, Tol. I think yer mixed up."

"I'm not. I know who I'm talkin' about. I'm talkin' about Randolph McCoy, Junior, who was born on October 30, 2001, at five-twenty-five in the mornin'. You-you was a quiet baby, slept well most of the time and never gave no one no trouble. When ya were two an' ya moved int' my room, ya started sleepin' with me 'cause you was convinced there was a monster under our beds.

"Ya slept with me 'til ya were seven, but ya still stayed in my room until Jim moved out a year later. After that, ya moved straight 'cross the hall from me. Ya still came runnin' into my room on nights ya had real bad nightmares that scared ya outta yer wits, and you'd end up fallin' asleep while we watched one of your fav'rite movies.

"The one time ya came home after tryin' t' play basketball and ya was all bloody, I was the one that cleaned ya up. I gave ya some pain medicine that Mama had bought and it helped ya sleep, even though ya complained about the taste. And it was a pill. When you was twelve, ya started writing. You started and you've yet t' stop, and ya always write the most wonderful stories, Bud. They really are wonderful. And none of that is the reason why you're my favorite, but you r'member all of that?"

"...Yeah," Bud nodded slowly. "I r'member. Ya always held me jus' like this when I had a nightmare."

"Yeah, I did," Tolbert nodded. "I love ya, kid. Life wouldn't be very fun without ya."

"Ya don't mean that."

"If I didn't, I wouldn't've said it. I love you, kid."

"I love you. I love you so much. I'm always scared that what they say is right n one of these days yer gonna realize I ain't worth yer time, an-an' that I'm worthless, so you'll hate me n I'm just gonna get hurt."

"I ain't gonna do that t' you, Buddy," Tolbert assured him, rubbing the boy's back. "Might get mad n flail your head every now an' then, but I won't ever hate ya, or say that you ain't worth my time. Because you're not worthless, Bud. Ya mean so much t' me, darlin'."

"But... _why?_ I ain't no good at nothin'."

"Yeah, ya are. You're good at so many things. I love ya, kid. Don't ya ever forget that."

* * *

By the time supper rolled around, Tolbert and Bud had gone to Ran'l and Sally's. They got there about two minutes before supper started, and were quickly ushered to the dining room. The two took their usual seats, Calvin and Pharmer sending Bud an odd look.

After saying grace, the food was passed around. Bud took as little as he could without Tolbert kicking him under the table or pinching his side. He shot his brother a glare each time he did, passing the bowl to him.

Bud's stomach started to churn. He knew that he wouldn't be able to keep the little he'd taken down, but he was okay with that. He needed to lose weight and if this was how he did it, well, he hoped it would work.

Bud had been doing the same routine the last three weeks. If he could get out of a meal by saying he wasn't hungry, he would, and if he couldn't, he'd go to the bathroom after he ate and make himself throw up. It wasn't pleasant, but it was working.

"Y'all hear that Bud got in a fight t'day?" Pharmer spoke up.

Bud tensed as his cheeks flushed red.

"No, I didn't," Ran'l replied. "There a reason for that?"

"I asked 'em t' call Tol," Bud murmured meekly.

"Why?"

"Figured it'd be better. It was his day off n ya wouldn't have t' leave the office unattended that way."

"Randolph McCoy, Junior, ya know we don't start fights. I've always told ya that ya never start 'em, but ya finish 'em. That how ya got that black eye?"

"Yes, sir."

Bud was going to be sick. His heart was racing and his stomach was twisting itself into knots. He just knew that his father was going to get angry.

"Who'd ya fight with?"

"William Johnson."

"He's the best athlete in our school. Don't know why Bud decided t' fight him," Pharmer piped up.

"Why'd ya fight him, Bud?" His father's voice took on a dangerous edge. The same edge it took every time he was angry and was giving them a warning to tell the truth.

"I don't — I don't know if ya can call it that, Poppy," Bud forced out, his throat constricting.

"Then what would ya call it?" Ran'l demanded.

"I don't — 'scuse me," Bud mumbled, getting up and running toward the bathroom.

This was bad, no, this was _horrible. _He'd never done it before, and it scared him. He closed and locked the bathroom door before falling to his knees in front of the toilet and retching into it.

Once he was done, he reached up and flushed it, turning and leaning against the wall. His breathing was heavy, but he was _fine. _He was always fine. He'd just remember not to eat while discussing things like a fight with his father. That would save him a lot of trouble.

He slowly picked himself up off of the floor, grabbing a washcloth off of the shelf and turning the sink on. He dampened it, wrung it out, and used it to wipe his mouth. He tossed it into the hamper and grabbed the mouthwash, rinsing his mouth before turning the sink off.

He stood there for a moment, his hands tightly gripping the edge of the sink. He had no doubt that it was going to be a lot worse once he went back. He'd asked Tolbert to stay out of it if the subject did come up, and Tolbert had told him that he would unless it got extremely bad. And by Bud's standards, this just scratched the surface of bad.

He made his way back to the dining room, sitting down and murmuring an apology. He pushed his plate away from him, trying to ignore the stares from his parents.

"Ya know he got suspended too?" Calvin inquired. "I heard it was like seven days of out of school suspension."

"I beg your pardon?" Ran'l said lowly.

Bile rose in Bud's throat. He swallowed thickly, clenching his hands under the table.

"Bud."

"Yes, Poppy?"

"Come with me."

* * *

Bud was led to the office of Ran'l's timbering company. He had a feeling he knew what was coming, and he really didn't want it. He didn't want to be yelled at again. He'd been yelled at all day, and he'd rather not have Ran'l yell at him, thank you.

"Sit down."

Bud did as he was told. He wasn't stupid enough to go against his father's wishes when he was angry.

"Yer suspended, are ya?"

"Yes, sir."

"Bud, I'm tryin' my hardest not t' lose my temper with you."

"I know," he whispered, his head hung low.

"Did ya think I wouldn't find out?"

"I don't know."

"Whaddaya mean ya don't know? It's a yes or no question, Bud!" Ran'l started to raise his voice. Bud's frame tensed.

"I don't know. I just — I thought it'd be better if Tol came n got me since you was workin'—"

"What're ya doin' fightin'?!" Ran'l pulled him up by the collar of his sweatshirt. "I've told ya time an' time again not t' get in any fights! And I've _especially _told you not t' start 'em!"

Bud yelped as he stumbled into the filing cabinet behind him.

"Have ya lost your mind, son? Is that what happened t' you? Ya shoulda known that no matter who came n got ya, I was gonna find out!"

"_Poppy!_" Bud cried as Ran'l slapped him. "I'm sorry, Poppy, I'm sorry!"

"What'd ya fight him for, Bud?" Ran'l sighed tiredly.

"I didn't," Bud answered truthfully. "He beat me up n said I started it."

"Did ya at least tell that t' yer principal?"

Bud slowly shook his head.

"Why?" Ran'l started to raise his voice again.

"Nobody'd believe me, Poppy. I didn't... I didn't wanna make it no worse, so I just kept my mouth shut."

"Why wouldn't they believe ya, Bud?"

"It's my word against William Johnson's and all of his friends. They'll jus' lie an' make it worse on me."

"And what about your friends, Bud?"

Bud averted his gaze. How was he supposed to tell his father that he didn't have any friends? He had his brothers and sisters, and his cousins, but that was it. Even the people at church avoided him when they saw him.

"Bud, what's wrong?"

"I ain't got no friends, Poppy."

"Why ain't you got no friends?"

"No one wants t' be friends with me. I'm — I'm the freak, Poppy. No one wants t' be friends with the freak of the school."

"Bud, ya ain't no freak."

"Everyone seems t' think so," Bud shrugged. "I can't do nothin' about it. I jus' keep t' myself... It's better that way. Can't get hurt if you're all alone."

Ran'l was a man that rarely showed affection to his children. But when his youngest son was standing in front of him, calling himself a freak and saying that he had no friends, it made him pull the boy into a tight embrace.

"I want you t' listen t' me. You ain't no freak. Yer a good kid with a good heart. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a moron."

Bud laughed, wrapping his arms around his father. He didn't get to hug Ran'l very often, but when he did, he always enjoyed it. Ran'l gave some of the best hugs in the Tug River Valley, and always jokingly told his children that if they told anyone that, he'd flail their heads. He never meant it, and they knew it, but they decided it was best to keep that secret in the family.

"An' I'm sorry for hittin' ya. Are ya okay?"

"'M fine, Poppy. Ya didn't do no damage."

"No? Half of yer face is red, youngin."

"'S okay. It was all bloody earlier. Can't look no worse than that."

"Tolbert clean ya up?"

"Mhm."

"Good. Let's get ya back inside. Ya still hungry?"

"No," Bud laughed breathlessly. "I don't think I could eat no more."

"That's okay, darlin'. Ya don't have to."

"Thank you, Poppy."

"Don't mention it, Bud."

* * *

**_February 2018_**

Bud couldn't believe it. William had gone as far as to photoshop texts between him and Bud — Bud had William blocked on every social media platform — and had printed it out and gave it to his father. Then his father gave it to Tolbert, who happened to be the one picking Bud up, since he was staying with him that weekend.

So when Bud got into the truck, he thought everything was normal. Or he did until Tolbert punched his arm.

"_Ow! _Geez, Tol, what's the matter with you?" Bud demanded, rubbing his sore arm.

"What the heck is wrong with you? Ya told me ya didn't talk t' William Johnson!"

"I don't!"

"Ya don't? Then what the heck is this, Bud?" Tolbert demanded, shoving the papers in Bud's hands.

Bud's eyes scanned each word. He became more and more mortified with each passing second. Not a word on those sheets were true. Who would do that to him?

"These ain't true, Tolbert," Bud denied instantly, shaking his head.

"No? Well, ya got three people swearin' that they are, Bud."

"Tolbert, I _swear, _they ain't. You-you can even—"

"You wanna know where I got them?"

"William?"

"No. I got 'em from Poppy. William gave 'em t' Poppy, and Poppy gave 'em t' me. Are we on the same page here?"

"I think so."

"What's got int' you, Bud? Ya've never done nothin' like this."

"I didn't! I didn't do that," Bud insisted.

Silence filled the truck. Bud's face fell as he realized that Tolbert didn't believe him. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, shaking his head as he stared at Tolbert. Tolbert started the engine and backed out of the parking space, throwing the gear shift into drive and leaving the parking lot.

"Why don't you believe me?" Bud asked softly.

"It's not that I don't believe you—"

"No? Ya'd rather take William Johnson's word over mine, Tolbert! What does that say?"

"Bud, if ya'd just let me fini—"

"I'm sick of this. I'm sick of everyone takin' everyone's word over mine. _I didn't do it!_"

"Would ya listen t' me?"

"Nobody ever believes me anyway. What makes you n Poppy any different?"

"Bud—"

"Just shut up, Tolbert. I hate you. _God, _I hate you."

"Bud, you don't—"

"_Shut up!_" Bud screeched. "Don't ya give me that _you don't mean that _speech. I'm tired of always bein' the one that gets hurt, Tolbert. I-I try my best t' be a good person, but how can ya be a good person when everyone hates you and no one believes you?!"

"Bud, will ya listen t' me?"

"No. I'm tired of always listenin'. Just take me home, Tolbert."

"Alright. Ya want t' stop n get somethin' t' eat first? I know you ain't ate today."

"No. I don't want nothin' from you," Bud lashed out, shifting to where he couldn't see Tolbert. "I just want to go home."

"Okay."

* * *

Tolbert had dropped Bud off before going home himself. Bud had slammed the door and went straight to the office out back, and Tolbert had no doubt the boy was going to be in for it there too. Ran'l wasn't exactly happy about the texts.

To get his mind off of it, Tolbert decided to clean the house. He'd been picking things up in the kitchen when he stumbled across a few papers that had been stapled together with Bud's neat handwriting on it. Thinking it might've been an essay or something, since he'd dated it and signed his name to it, Tolbert read it.

_Some people say that life is like a box of chocolates. I disagree. While there are some chocolates that are too rich, too sweet, maybe too bitter, life is __nothing __like it._

_Life is more like an endless abyss. You scream and scream and scream, yet no one will hear. You can cry for help and no one will. You look around you, seeing everyone happy with their own lives, and you wonder why you can't be happy too._

_And then you realize it's because you weren't meant for happiness._

_Some people were born to take the brunt of the people who don't know how to speak kindly to others or treat them the way they should be treated. Those people are labeled freaks, weirdos, pigs, worthless, and useless._

_They're told that the world would be a better place without them in it; that no one loves them and if anyone does, they'll stop eventually. And after a while of hearing it over and over again, they start to believe it._

_They believe that no one loves them, and they keep track of each little thing. They notice when someone is harsher than usual, even just the slightest bit, or if their tone is just a little different than it normally is. They notice the anger that flashes through someone's eyes before it vanishes while they're speaking to them, they notice the way their hand clenches into a fist before they unclench it again two seconds later._

_Each sigh, each tone, each word is taken and studied. If they feel that that person doesn't love them anymore, they make a note of it and move on, doing their very best to avoid them._

_Yet there are times that they can't. There are times they have to live with the ones that despise them for being so weird, so worthless. And they can't stop it. They know if they say so much as a single word, it will raise concerns on __why __they don't want to live with that person. They wouldn't have an answer that they could give, so they stay silent._

_Silence is truly a friend and a foe. There are times it is useful; then there are times when it is the thing that assures you that you are no longer loved by someone._

_The worst feeling is the realization. The way you can feel your heart breaking in your chest — a dull, familiar ache that grows worse and worse the longer you think about it. Your eyes water and you wish you could disappear into thin air; you wish you didn't exist and that you had never been born. You feel betrayed, even if they haven't done any wrong._

_You feel worthless._

_Worthless — a feeling and word I am familiar with. It's been the word that's been thrown at me for years, the word that has described my feelings for the last few months. It is a word that doesn't hurt as much as it should; when you are called "worthless" you should feel a sting. But there is no sting now._

_It's like an emptiness now. An emptiness that has no end, just like the abyss called life._

_I should not feel the way I do. I've always known that I was not a lovable person, but it always seems to hurt more and more the longer I must stay where I am not wanted. I'm not sure Mama and Poppy want me anymore, and I'm positive that Tolbert doesn't. I've done nothing but make life harder for everyone else._

_And each day, it seems the list of people who hate me grows. As of February 2, 2018, the list consists of Nancy, Jefferson, Sammy, Paris, Cal, Pharmer, Roseanna, Alifair, Jim, Poppy, Tolbert, Trinnie, Fanny, and Aunt Patty._

_I don't understand what I'm doing wrong. It feels like I'm drowning and no one can see. It feels like a part of me gets torn apart with each passing day, but I have to keep going. I have to act like everything is alright._

_Maybe someday someone will understand. Maybe someday, I won't be despised by someone I care for. Unlikely, I know, but it's nice to hold onto a dream. Even one as unrealistic as that._

* * *

Bud sat in his room, sniffling and furiously wiping at his eyes. He shouldn't be crying. He should be used to it by now; no one ever believed him. He didn't know why he expected Ran'l to.

He contemplated calling Tolbert, just to get away for a weekend, but then remembered that it was the same with him.

Bud was alone.

He had no one he could turn to. Tolbert was usually the one he turned to in every situation, and he'd taken William's word over Bud's. He didn't understand why Tolbert would believe William over him, but he was used to not being believed.

So why did it bother him so badly?

Bud turned onto his side, pulling the blanket over his shoulder. Sleep seemed like a good escape. He hadn't slept at all the night before — he hated insomnia with a passion — and the night before that, he hadn't slept either. As a matter of fact, now that Bud thought about it, he couldn't remember sleeping at all that week. He knew that insomnia was common with anxiety and depression, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

He sighed deeply, stuffing his arm under his pillow. Maybe he'd feel better once he slept.

* * *

Bud awoke to his bedroom door slamming open. He jerked awake and blinked a few times to allow his vision to clear, finding Calvin as he marched into Bud's room.

"Wha' d'you want?" Bud grumbled, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand.

"Wanted t' make sure you're okay," Calvin responded.

"I was fine 'til you woke me up."

"Sorry."

"Why'd ya wake me up?"

"I didn't know you were sleepin'. I just thought..." Calvin trailed off. "I know what William did to ya, alright? I beat him up pretty good, gave him what-for. I was scared that ya mighta done somethin'."

"Like what?"

"Don't make me say it."

"Yer scared I'm gonna kill myself, aren't ya?"

"Bud—"

"I won't lie t' ya, Cal. I've thought about it before. I think about it a lot, actually."

"Oh, please don't say that," Calvin shook his head.

"It's not a big deal, Calvin. 'M pretty sure at some point in life, everybody wonders what it would feel like t' die. I ain't ever gonna do it. I'm okay with the way my life is. It's a mess, but I'm okay with it. Don't look so stressed out 'cause of me. It makes me feel bad."

"You n I clearlyhave different definitions of the phrase_ big deal._"

"You n I clearly have different views on life," Bud retorted.

"Poppy n Tol mad at ya?"

"Ain't they," Bud scoffed, turning onto his back. "I don't think they'll be talkin' to me much for a while. Didn't help that I lost my temper with Tolbert."

"Ya had every right to. I'll talk to 'em, tell 'em what he did, I reckon. _Please _don't do anythin' that could kill you."

"I'm about to kill you if you don't let me sleep."

"I... think I'll go find Poppy."

"Good idea."

* * *

Bud had been outside when Tolbert pulled up. He lowered his gaze, hoping that Tolbert wouldn't speak to him. He didn't know if he was still mad at him or not, and he'd rather not find out before supper.

Tolbert sat down beside him. Bud focused on his hands, the pad of his thumb rubbing his other hand. He needed a distraction and at present, that was all he had.

"I know ya don't wanna talk t' me right now, an' ya don't have to. I just need ya t' listen t' me for a few minutes, okay?"

Bud nodded mutely.

"I found somethin' you wrote while I was cleanin' earlier. I don't think I was meant t' find it, but I did and I read it. I figured you'd want it back." Tolbert handed him the folded papers.

Bud's brows furrowed as he unfolded it, his heart plummeting to his stomach when he saw what it was.

"Where'd ya find it?" he rasped, lifting his gaze.

"The kitchen. Why didn't you tell me you feel that way?"

"'S not important," Bud shrugged. "Like me. I'm not important neither."

"Yes, you are," Tolbert argued.

"Would you stop actin' like ya care?" Bud snapped, his hazel-green eyes meeting Tolbert's ice-blue ones. "I know ya don't, so just stop."

"Bud, I care about you. You're my brother."

"That don't mean a thing, Tolbert. Plenty of brothers hate each other."

"Yeah? Well, we ain't them," Tolbert snarled.

"Coulda fooled me! Ya didn't believe a dagon word I said, so why should I listen t' you now, or even _think _that ya care?"

"Just because I might think ya did somethin' doesn't mean I don't care."

"Well, I didn't, Tolbert! _I didn't! _If you n Poppy would ever just listen t' me, ya'd know that I can prove that I didn't do it!"

"Oh, can ya?"

"Yeah. But heck, Tolbert, I doubt you'd believe me even if I did."

"Why don't you quit pityin' yourself?" Tolbert lashed out. "Ya'd find life a lot more enjoyable if ya did, Bud. Not ev'rythin' is gonna go your way, and throwin' a pity party every time it doesn't ain't gonna make life no easier. Matter of fact, it makes you look like a brat! A selfish, self-centered, spoiled _brat!_"

Bud felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Was that what Tolbert thought of him? That he was selfish, self-centered, and spoiled?

Bud had known for a while that Tolbert hated him. So why did it hurt so much? There was no real reason for Bud to think that Tolbert didn't feel that way about him. He'd known for a while that Tolbert hated him. It had been a given a small time after the fight incident.

"I — You don't understand what I go through," Bud shook his head, his voice shaking terribly.

"_What you go through?_" Tolbert repeated, his brows raising. "What could ya possibly go through? Ya've got a good family, ya got a roof over yer head, ya got food on the table in there, ya got clothes on yer back. Ya got a fam'ly that loves you. So what could ya _possibly _go through, Bud?"

Bud clenched his fists and bit the inside of his cheek. Tolbert didn't understand. He would _never _understand.

"You not gonna say nothin'?"

"I wanted so badly t' think you were diff'rent. I wanted t' think that maybe you'd be the one person I'd always be able t' depend on, but clearly I'm a terrible judge of character."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothin'. I'm just _peachy, _Tolbert," Bud said coldly. "Just — just leave me alone."

He got up and went inside, slamming the door shut.

* * *

Bud didn't leave his room all weekend. On Sunday, Pharmer decided to take him some food, just so the boy wouldn't starve.

When he entered Bud's room, the boy was sitting at his desk, his chin propped up in his left hand while he wrote.

"Buddy?"

Bud gasped and spun toward him. He sighed and asked, "What d'ya want?"

"I brought ya some lunch. Haven't seen ya since Thursday, Bud."

"Yeah, well, it ain't been the best weekend. Friday was horrible n I just didn't want t' go out yesterday. Don't wanna go out t'day neither."

"What happened, Bud?" Pharmer asked, walking over to him and setting the plate on the desk.

"It's not important," Bud shook his head.

"Nah, not leavin' your room for two days ain't no big deal," Pharmer remarked sarcastically. "Seriously, Bud, what's wrong?"

"'S just bad again. Haven't wanted t' do nothin' so I haven't."

"What set it off, Bud?"

"I got into it with Tolbert."

"That's not a good start. He doesn't know, does he?"

"'Bout the anxiety n depression? No. We all agreed t' keep it from him, remember?"

"Yeah. I didn't know if he'd found out or not."

"Well, he ain't," Bud sniffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "He let me know what he thought of me though. Can't say it's done wonders for my self-esteem, since that's been nonexistent since fifth grade."

"What'd he do?"

"He said I need t' stop pitying myself. That life doesn't always go the way I want it to an' throwin' a pity party each time it happens ain't gonna make it no easier. He said it makes me look like a selfish, self-centered, spoiled brat. An' after I told him he didn't know what I go through, he told me I have a good family, a roof over my head, food on the table, clothes on my back, and a family that loves me. It makes me feel _so bad _for feelin' this way."

"Oh, Buddy," Pharmer breathed.

"He made it out like I _want _t' feel this way. I hate it. I hate it and I hate him."

"You don't mean that."

"I don't know what I mean," Bud sobbed. "I jus' don't wanna get hurt no more."

Pharmer bit down on his lip, his brows furrowed as he thought about what he could say. He knew what he wanted to say, but he doubted Bud would like it very much.

"Maybe... maybe you need t' tell him, Bud. He doesn't know what ya deal with an' it would be best if he did."

"Why? So he can make fun of that too?"

"He ain't — if he knew, he wouldn't've said what he said. I promise ya that much, Bud."

"He-he found somethin' that I wrote," Bud admitted quietly. "He brought it over on Friday b'fore we got into it. H-here, you can read it n see why I didn't want him t' read it."

Pharmer sat down in the beanbag chair beside the desk, the papers in hand. Bud picked a french fry off of the plate, munching on it as he went back to writing.

It was silent for a few moments, save for the sound of Bud's pen scratching against the paper. Bud continued to pick at the food Pharmer had brought him, being careful not to eat too much. He'd get sick if he did, and he would rather not spend his day throwing up, thank you very much.

"Bud, darlin', why didn't you talk t' me?"

"I don't know," Bud sighed. "I just wrote my feelin's that day. Y-ya see how the list is. I just... I don't know."

"Ya think I hate ya?"

"I don't know, it seemed that way for a while. 'Specially after William went n told everyone I started a fight with him."

"No one hated ya then and we don't hate ya now. We love ya very much, Buddy. All of us. Even grumpy ol' Tolbert who's gonna get it next time I see him."

Bud laughed softly and shook his head.

"Jus' don't hurt him."

"Ya care if I tell him?"

"Go for it. I don't care anymore."

"Great. I'll be back."

* * *

Tolbert sat in the living room, watching some old horror movie that was playing on tv. It wasn't scary in the least, and was kind of cheesy, but he didn't care. He wasn't really paying attention to it anyway.

He heard the door open. He thought it might have been Bud, since the boy usually stayed away for a few days when he was mad and then came over (and since he was one of the only ones Tolbert had given a key). Tolbert didn't bother moving from where he sat.

"Tolbert!" Pharmer yelled.

"What d'you want?" Tolbert groaned, throwing his head back.

"I want t' know why ya said all that t' Bud! What on earth were you _thinkin'?!_"

"Which incident are we referrin' to? When I picked him up or Friday night?"

"Friday night."

"Oh. I don't know. Ain't really got a reason for it."

"Tolbert, ya basically told him he has no right t' feel the way that he does!" Pharmer ranted.

"I don't know what's wrong with him!" Tolbert shouted. "He's actin' a brat, Pharmer."

"Yeah? Well, you ain't much better!"

"Did you just come here t' yell at me? 'Cause if ya did, you can just—"

"Bud has depression, Tolbert! How do you think that made him feel?"

Tolbert blinked, a dumbstruck look on his face.

"What did you just say?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"About two years ago, Bud got diagnosed with anxiety and depression. He didn't want us tellin' you 'cause he was scared you'd stop wantin' t' get around him," Pharmer explained, lowering his voice. "He thinks you hate him, Tol."

"Oh my God, what — oh God," Tolbert mumbled, getting up and grabbing his keys.

"_Tolbert!_"

* * *

Bud looked up as his door opened, crashing against the wall. He'd just gotten out of the shower, his hair still wet and he was shirtless, dressed only in a pair of black sweatpants.

"Oh God, why didn't ya tell me?" Tolbert questioned.

"I just didn't want ya thinkin' no diff'rent of me," Bud shrugged.

"I understand. I'm so sorry, Buddy, I'm sorry," Tolbert pulled him into a hug. "I don't hate ya, kid. I love ya. I love ya _so much._"

"...Are you okay?"

"Bud... I'm sorry for what I said. But you were wrong, Buddy, you're so wrong. I understand what ya go through. I got it too," Tolbert murmured, slightly tightening his arms around the boy.

"Whaddaya mean ya got it too?" Bud muffled into Tolbert's shoulder, wrapping his arms around him.

"Got diagnosed with bipolar disorder an' depression right after I moved out. I reckon we're both a mess, huh?" Tolbert chuckled breathlessly.

"Seems that way," Bud agreed. "Ya never told me that, Tol."

"Too ashamed of it. Thought it'd be best t' just... keep it t' myself. Not t' mention you was only eight when I found that out. Ya wouldn't've understood."

"I'm real sorry for screamin'. Reckon I was just tryin' t' keep from gettin' hurt again."

Tolbert rubbed Bud's back.

"You slept any the last two days?"

"I ain't slept for about a week now," Bud responded, pulling out of the hug. "It's just been one of them weeks, ya know?"

"Yeah. Maybe a nap here and there, but that's as much sleep as ya get."

"Yeah. I slept for like an hour on Friday and that's it. I think that's what's kept me goin' this weekend."

"Goodness, Bud. What're we gonna do with ya?"

"Let me sleep when I actually do?" Bud suggested. "No one _ever _lets me sleep around here."

"So move out for a day or two and catch up on sleep b'fore ya keel over," Tolbert told him. "You know you can come stay with me any time you want. At least in my house, ya don't have t' worry 'bout people makin' s' much noise you can't sleep."

"That's true. Unless ya drop somethin' like ya did that once. That scared me outta my wits."

"Yeah, that was a bad day for all of us," Tolbert grimaced.

"What was it that ya dropped?"

"I don't remember. All I remember's the loud crash it made."

"Hey, Tolbert?"

"Yeah, Bud?"

"Will you watch a movie with me?"

"Yeah, kid. I'll watch as many movies as you want me to."

* * *

Tolbert sat on Bud's bed, his back against the headboard. Bud was curled up against him, his head lying on Tolbert's chest and his arms wrapped around his middle, sleeping soundly.

He'd dozed off about twenty minutes into the movie, which really gave Tolbert an idea of just how exhausted the boy was. He'd gone to school all week, came home, did whatever he was told to do by Ran'l, did his homework, and then he usually spent a good two or three hours writing.

Tolbert honestly didn't understand how he'd managed to stay awake as long as he did.

Sure, Tolbert had his days where sleep fled from him, but he'd never gone almost a whole week without sleep. Two or three days, at most, was Tolbert's record. He had fallen asleep at his kitchen table and had woken up with a crick in his neck.

So he didn't mind being used as a pillow. At least Bud hadn't fallen asleep at the table, or out in the office, or even up around the mill. (He usually stacked lumber and slapped the labels on it, and occasionally had to change a belt. Ran'l never let him cut the lumber.)

And it seemed that the more Tolbert thought about the way Bud had acted the last few months, the more he realized that he'd missed so many little signs that he should have caught. Little things like Bud not talking as much as he usually did, the circles that appeared under Bud's eyes, the way the boy wouldn't eat at all or eat a little more than usual, or finding the boy sleeping in random places. Things that Tolbert should have caught.

But everything was alright now. A movie was playing and Bud was sleeping, and they weren't screaming at each other. Everything was alright.

Tolbert looked down at Bud, who'd thrown on an oversized sweatshirt, noticing how childlike he looked while he slept. If Tolbert didn't know the boy was almost seventeen years old, he probably would have sworn he was around thirteen.

Bud had dealt with a lot in school. He had William and all of his friends trying to make him as miserable as they could, he had the teachers giving him a hard time just because they didn't like him, and he had the principal swearing that he was starting fights with William.

Bud had confided to Tolbert that there were a few instances where one of his teachers would force him to get up in front of the class and read something he'd written in his _spare time. _It had nothing to do with the class, and was only done to humiliate him, which wasn't hard to do, seeing as he had terrible anxiety and always ended up reading something wrong. And if Tolbert recalled correctly, it was Bud's science teacher that did it.

"Tolbert, I hate t' bother you, but can you please move your truck? I can't get out," Ran'l asked, appearing in the doorway.

"Yeah, gimme a minute."

Ran'l walked off. Tolbert focused on Bud again, gently shaking his shoulder.

"Bud," Tolbert hissed. "_Psst. _Bud!"

He shook him a little harder. Why wasn't he waking up?

"Bud, c'mon, kid. I gotta go do somethin'. _Bud!_"

Tolbert gently smacked his face. He'd had to do it before, since Bud was a deep sleeper and it was about the only way he could get the boy to wake up, and it usually worked like a charm. Now, however, not even that was working. If Tolbert could have gotten up without waking him, he would have, but Bud had an iron grip around his middle and his legs thrown over Tolbert's. Tolbert couldn't move.

"Hey, Cal! Do me a favor," Tolbert called, knowing that nothing would wake Bud. Calvin stopped and backtracked, leaning against the doorway with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. "Move my truck s' Poppy can get out. I would, but he won't wake up. At all."

Calvin snickered and caught the keys Tolbert tossed to him. "Good luck gettin' out of this situation."

Tolbert shot him a glare. Calvin walked off, roaring with laughter. Tolbert rolled his eyes at him and shook his head. He didn't care if he was stuck for a few hours. He knew that Bud had likely pushed himself to his limit, and would sleep for a few hours. If he was anything like Tolbert, he'd wake up from a nightmare soon enough.

* * *

Bud awoke with a sharp gasp.

"Hey, it's okay. Shh, it's alright. It was just a dream," Tolbert murmured, brushing Bud's hair out of his eyes. Bud laid his head back down, huffing in relief.

Tolbert shifted to where he laid on the bed, Bud scooting so he could be comfortable with his head on Tolbert's chest.

"Ya alright, Buddy?"

"'M fine. Jus' a stupid dream," he grumbled. "'M real sleepy, Tol."

"Then go back ta sleep. I ain't stoppin' ya."

"Mkay. Ya don't care?"

"If I cared, I wouldn't tell ya t' go back ta sleep," Tolbert chuckled, starting to play with the boy's mussed up hair.

"Mmm... tha' feels nice," he hummed. "I love ya, Tol'ert."

"Love ya too, Bud."

* * *

**_April 2018_**

Tolbert sighed as he walked into the school, making his way to the office. He passed William Johnson, who seemed to be pleased with himself, and Tolbert rolled his eyes. He wouldn't do anything because William was a minor and Tolbert was about ten years older than he was. He couldn't get by with it like Calvin could.

Entering the office, the secretary just pointed to the door behind her. Tolbert nodded his thanks and went back.

"Mr. McCoy, I could have sworn you said this wouldn't happen again."

Bud was in the same position he had been the first time Tolbert picked him up, only he looked much worse. He had one arm folded across his middle, around his rib cage, and seemed to be breathing a little heavier than he usually did.

Tolbert sat down with a sigh.

"Sir, I'm sure there's a good reason if Bud started a fight. He's not the type of person t' go around pickin' fights with someone like William."

Mr. Smith exhaled deeply through his nostrils.

"Mr. McCoy, I've got about ten people swearing that your brother started the fight for no good reason."

"An' those people would lie on my brother."

Bud looked at Tolbert and shook his head, silently pleading with him to shut up so they could go.

"William looks just fine. My brother looks like he's been beaten to a pulp."

"Your brother started a fight with someone much stronger than he is. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes."

Bud clenched his jaw and his fist, averting his gaze to the floor. He tried to be a good student, but how could he do anything when William was constantly getting him into trouble for something he didn't do?

"You're making an assumption," Tolbert stated.

Mr. Smith raised his brows, causing his forehead to wrinkle.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're making an assumption," Tolbert repeated. "If he wanted to start a fight with William Johnson, I guarantee you Bud would not look the way he does right now. Bud's a strong boy. He's stout. He could win a fight against someone like William in less than five minutes."

"Tolbert, please," Bud whispered, wincing. "I wanna go home."

"Same as last time?" Tolbert queried.

"No. Since there were witnesses this time, your brother gets fifteen days of out of school suspension."

Tolbert held his tongue. He wanted to argue that the people that took up for William could hardly be called witnesses since they'd say anything William told them to. It wasn't right that Bud was punished for something he didn't do.

And for a moment, he wondered if he could persuade Ran'l and Sally into homeschooling Bud. He was already learning more at home than he was at school, since Bud was ahead in most of his classes. (All except math. Bud was terrible at algebra and trigonometry.)

He stood and waited for Bud, who bit down harshly on his split lip as he stood and bent down to grab his backpack. Tolbert opened the door for him, noticing how Bud limped. It was worse than before.

He waited until they were outside to say anything.

"What's wrong?"

"Stupid William Johnson an' his friends. They done somethin' t' my ankle, an' my ribs are either bruised or broke. It really hurts, Tol."

"Ya wanna swing by MedExpress or somethin'?"

"N-no. No. I'll be fine with Tylenol an' ice."

"Alright," Tolbert sighed. "But if that limp of yours gets any worse, you're goin'."

* * *

Tolbert took Bud to his place. He didn't see any reason in having Bud stay at home where he'd have to climb a bunch of stairs just to get to his room, so he figured Bud could stay there until his ankle healed.

He helped Bud inside and to the couch. Bud grunted and leaned back, trying to relieve the pain in his middle.

"I'll go get ya some medicine an' clean ya up. Give me a minute, alright?"

"A'ight."

Tolbert left the room, leaving Bud alone. Bud shifted, whimpering quietly. His hand gripped the arm of the couch, his knuckles white as snow as he tried to find a less painful position. He discovered that there wasn't any and groaned.

He wasn't sure what had made William so angry. All he knew was that he had been minding his own business, getting what he needed out of his locker when William appeared and slammed him into the one beside it. Bud had noticed the others behind William and knew he was in for it.

He'd taken a good twenty-minute beating. Bud was honestly surprised he was conscious and didn't have a concussion. He would prefer to be unconscious. He couldn't feel when he was sleeping, so it seemed preferable to be unconscious and numb rather than awake.

"Here ya go," Tolbert handed him two pills and a glass of water.

"Thanks," he murmured. He took the medicine and sipped the water.

Tolbert set the glass on the coffee table, then sat down beside Bud.

"I'm gonna take some pictures of yer face t' show Mama n Poppy what happened t' ya, okay?"

"Tolbert—"

"Only Mama n Poppy'll see it. I promise."

"Okay."

Bud cast his eyes down, just so the flash wouldn't bother him too badly. He turned his head to both sides, and even lifted it so Tolbert could get the fingerprints on Bud's neck.

"How'd ya get those?"

"He was holdin' me up by my neck," Bud answered bluntly. "My feet weren't touchin' the floor neither, so I couldn't breathe and was a little too scared t' fight since he'd already hurt my ankle."

Tolbert sighed and shook his head, turning his phone off and setting it on the table.

"Get that shirt off. It's ripped anyways."

Bud did as he was told, wincing as he did so. He noticed the way Tolbert paled slightly.

"Oh my God, Bud. Yer ribs are broke. Maybe ya should—"

"I ain't goin' nowhere," Bud stated firmly. "All they'll do is say the same thing you did, prescribe ibuprofen — which we have here — and send me home and charge what, a thousand dollars for that?"

"Somethin' like that, yeah."

"Just wrap 'em and leave 'em alone."

"Alright. I'll go find the ace bandage after I clean ya up."

"Mkay. It really hurts," he muttered, shifting slightly.

"Well, the Tylenol should kick in in a minute. Sit up a bit, Buddy. Let's get the blood off of ya and bandage ya up."

"Ya say it like you expect me t' end up lookin' like a mummy," Bud deadpanned, shooting Tolbert an unamused look.

"That's not what I meant," Tolbert snorted. "But thank you for that mental image. You should be a mummy for Halloween this year."

"_No._"

* * *

Bud couldn't sleep.

He'd tossed and turned for well over an hour now, and finally decided he'd had enough. He got up and shuffled to Tolbert's room, where Tolbert was sitting on his bed with his laptop, mumbling under his breath.

"Tol, I can't sleep," Bud grumbled.

"Join the club, kid," Tolbert remarked, looking up at him. "C'mon. You can stay in here, I reckon."

Bud limped over time Tolbert's bed and crawled onto it, hissing as he sat down beside Tolbert, who was doing the accounting for the week for Ran'l's timbering company.

"Your ankle still botherin' ya?"

"Little bit. I think it's just sprained, ain't nothin' t' worry 'bout."

"Nah. Ya just got beat up an' ya have one or two broken ribs, an' you're also awake at three o'clock in the mornin', but yer just fine."

"Oh, shut up. Ya can't say nothin' 'bout me bein' awake. You are too."

"Alright. Fair 'nough."

"H-hey, Tol?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks for tryin' t' stand up for me t'day. Won't do ya no good, though."

"It's just the point, Bud. Ya didn't do nothin'. Yer hands are as smooth as butter," Tolbert pointed out. "There's no way ya coulda hit him without bustin' yer knuckles."

"What's that supposed t' mean?"

"Means I know you. Ya don't know how t' control your strength, Bud. If you ever get in a legit fight, yer gonna be real mad. Ya won't pull your punches, an' you're gonna really hurt 'em and bust your knuckles. And just a heads up, if you ever get in a fight, that does hurt."

"Oh," Bud muttered. "...Is it a bad thing that I don't know how t' control my strength?"

"Nah. Ain't hard t' learn how, if you want to."

"Really? I don't wanna accidentally hurt nobody."

"Yeah, Bud. It's real easy. I'll teach ya after ya heal up."

"Thanks, Tol."

"Don't mention it, kiddo."

* * *

Bud woke up alone in Tolbert's room.

He got up, rushing to the kitchen, thinking that Tolbert might have been there. He wasn't. He went to the living room next, finding it empty as well. Bud tried to ignore the tight feeling in his chest.

He stumbled to his room, but it was just as he'd left it the night before. The bathroom door was standing open, so he knew he wasn't there. Bud leaned against the wall, blinking as he tried to figure out _why _he was so lightheaded. He stumbled in his room, falling to the floor and moving to where he sat against the wall, his breathing becoming labored.

Bud was going to die.

He had no doubt of it. Tears ran down his face as he whimpered, his hand tightly clenching the fabric of his shirt. He was going to die and no one would find him. Bud didn't _want _to die.

"Bud! Bud, where are ya?"

_Tolbert._

Tolbert appeared in the doorway, his brows raising in surprise.

"Can't... breathe. I... can't — can't breathe! 'M gonna — gonna die, Tol. I don't... I don't wanna d-d-ie!"

"Oh no," Tolbert breathed, moving to where he was in front of Bud and dropping to his knees. "Hey, you're okay. You're alright. _Breathe._"

"I — I can't!"

"Grounding, Bud. You remember grounding?" Bud nodded, throwing his head back against the wall as he tried to take a breath. "What's five things you can see?"

"M-my bed, my jacket... the curtain... a book, a lamp."

"Good, good, you're doin' great. What's four things you can touch?"

"You. The floor. The w-wall. That notebook."

"Great, Buddy. What's three things ya can hear?"

"Y-your voice, my voice, an-an' the tv in your room."

"Two things you can smell?"

"Y-your cologne and c-c-coffee."

"One thing you can taste."

"Water."

Bud's chest heaved as his face flooded with relief. He could _breathe._

"Better?"

"Uh-huh."

"I'm sorry for not leavin' a note or wakin' ya. I had t' go t' Mama's t' borrow a few eggs. I didn't think ya'd wake up while I was gone," Tolbert apologized.

"'S okay, Tol'ert," Bud said breathlessly. His head fell against Tolbert's shoulder, breathing heavily. "'M just a mess."

Tolbert laughed a little, rubbing his back comfortingly. Bud closed his eyes, his arms folding over his middle.

"I think I hurt m'self more."

"Ribs and ankle hurtin'?"

"Uh-huh," he nodded slightly. "Startin' t' hurt real bad, Tol."

"Alright, I'll go get ya some Tylenol. Then you can go back t' bed," Tolbert smiled softly.

Bud only nodded, too tired to say anything else. He drew in a sharp breath as a searing pain erupted in his ankle. He wasn't sure what he'd done to it, but he was sure he didn't want to risk making it any worse. It hurt an awful lot.

Tolbert disappeared for a moment, returning with a bottle of Tylenol before walking over to Bud's nightstand and grabbing the bottle of water off of it. He brought it over to Bud, crouching down in front of him and opening the bottle of Tylenol.

"Here."

"Thanks, Tol."

"You're welcome, Buddy."

Bud took the medicine and a drink of water. He turned his head and coughed, groaning after he did so. That really hurt his ribs.

"Let's get ya int' bed. Ya look exhausted."

Bud hummed, eyes flicking up to Tolbert, who stretched his hand out. Bud placed his hand in his, letting Tolbert pull him to his feet. It hurt a little, but he didn't care. He was too tired to care.

"Careful, Bud. Your ribs are broke."

Tolbert received a grunt in response. He helped the boy into bed and covered him with the thick blanket, ruffling his hair.

"Get some sleep. Ya need it."

* * *

**_May 2018_**

Bud slammed the door, going to his room and throwing his backpack in the corner. He closed the door to his room as well, being greeted with his reflection. His hideous reflection.

Without much of a thought on it, Bud drew his fist back and busted the mirror. A sob tore from his throat as he did it again, the glass shattering beneath his fist. He felt small shards pierce his skin, but he didn't care. He kept hitting it over and over and over until there was nothing but a flimsy piece of cardboard left in the frame.

He moved back and sat down against the bed, curling into a ball. He _hated _himself. There was no one he hated more than himself. He sat there, staring down at his hand through bleary vision, and picked at the glass shards.

"Bud? What in the world—" Tolbert cut himself off when he saw him and the shattered glass on the floor. "Bud?"

Bud didn't acknowledge him. He focused on the glass, cautiously picking it out of his skin. What shocked Tolbert was the blank expression. Tolbert knew that it had to hurt. It was _glass _that had embedded itself in Bud's skin. Yet he sat there, removing it without so much as a wince, or even a twitch of his lip.

After picking out the last piece of glass, Bud lifted his head, looking up at Tolbert.

"What did you break?" Tolbert asked softly, voice full of disbelief and concern. Bud stood, dodging Tolbert and closing the door, revealing nothing but an empty frame with a piece of cardboard. "Bud, ya couldn't've broke that without hurtin' yourself."

Bud shrugged, his eyes dull and almost... _lifeless._

Bud had told Tolbert that the bullying had stopped. He'd managed to make it so believable that he wasn't sure Tolbert would believe him if he told him he'd made the whole thing up. He'd told him that they'd stopped; that he'd finally snapped and said something to them and they hadn't bothered him since he did. It was a lie. It was all a lie.

But Tolbert didn't know that. To his knowledge, Bud was just fine. He hadn't slipped into a slump for a while, he'd been eating and sleeping right, and his work ethic at the timbering company had improved tremendously. Bud didn't dare to tell him he was working the extra hours just to take his mind off of everything.

"I want to know what's wrong with you, and I want t' know it _right now._"

"I just couldn't look at it anymore," Bud shrugged, shaking his head.

"Couldn't look at what?"

"_Me._ Myself. Whatever ya wanna call it, I couldn't — I just couldn't."

"Bud; what's the matter with you?"

"Look at me. Ya gotta see it too, Tol. If ya don't, ya need glasses."

"Ya look like Bud. Ya look fine t' me."

Bud shook his head, going over to his bed and sitting down on it. Why didn't Tolbert understand? Bud was hideous.

"Alright, what's wrong?"

"Look at me, Tolbert! _I'm hideous!_" Bud exploded. "I'm nothin' but a fat, ugly, ornery _pig!_"

"That ain't true."

"Yes, it is!" Bud stood up again. "It's true, Tolbert, it's true! You don't get it. I _hate _myself! There's no one I hate more than me! You — you don't have to listen t' people laugh at you _every day _b'cause ya wear a t-shirt, or even a long-sleeve one that clings t' ya after gym class. Ya don't see the looks they give me, ya don't have t' be called an _ugly, fat, ornery pig _every day of your life by people that are supposed to be your classmates during what's supposed t' be the best years of your life. Ya don't — I'm... I'm sorry."

Bud sat back down, eyes watering. Tolbert gaped at him. He wasn't sure what he could possibly say to the boy.

"Just, just forget I said anythin'," he said, voice wavering. "I'm sorry that I'm nothin' but a burden. Forget what I said, I'm fine. I swear I am, I'm just overreacting again. I'll get through it. Just ignore me, I'm an idiot."

"_Stop that,_" Tolbert chided. "You have every right t' be upset, alright? You have a right t' feel things, Bud. Stop apologizing for them. I'm here for you. I've got yer back, no matter what ya do. Ya hear me?"

Bud nodded slowly. He didn't understand why Tolbert wasn't mad at him. He'd lied to him for a little over a month now, why wasn't he _mad? _He should be livid with Bud, not telling him that it was okay to feel things and that he was there for him.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, _so _sorry," Bud whimpered, letting Tolbert wrap his arms around him tightly. "I — I thought that maybe if I told ya it stopped, it would be better. _Easier. _I... I didn't have t' repeat anythin' that was said t' me n when I came home, it was like everythin' was _okay._"

"Hey, hey, it's okay. _It's okay. _If you don't wanna talk about it, just tell me. I won't make ya talk about anything you don't want to, not unless ya look like ya've been beaten half t' death. All ya have t' do is tell me ya don't wanna talk 'bout it. Don't think ya have t' tell me everythin', 'cause ya don't. You're allowed t' have secrets, Bud. You're allowed t' want t' keep things t' yourself. I promise ya that it's okay. Heck, even Mama n Poppy'll tell ya that's okay. Ya don't have t' do anythin' ya don't wanna do, Bud. Not while you're here. Ya know I'll let ya do anything ya want so long as it ain't illegal and it won't bring no harm t' you."

Tolbert crouched in front of him, grasping Bud's hands in his.

"Are you understandin' me?"

Bud nodded in response. He understood what Tolbert was saying. He slid onto the floor, wrapping his arms around Tolbert and laying his head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly in an attempt to keep from crying again.

"I'm — I just thought it would be better," Bud murmured meekly. "I thought if I stopped botherin' you with my problems, everything would be alright. If — if I handled it on my own, it would be okay, ya know? But it wasn't. It got _worse, _Tol."

"Ya don't bother me, Buddy. If I didn't want t' listen t' you, you'd know it. I wouldn't let ya talk."

"I know. 'M sorry."

"No, no, don't be sorry. It's okay, darlin'. Ya have the right t' try t' handle things on your own if you want. Or ya can and just vent t' me."

"Maybe... maybe that would work."

Tolbert rubbed Bud's arm, bringing his other hand up and cupping Bud's cheek, rubbing it with the pad of his thumb. Bud leaned into his touch, humming quietly.

"Hey... hey, Tol?"

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"Ya always tell me I'm just fine the way I am, but you don't see what I see."

"And you don't see what I see. But... what d'you see?" Tolbert queried.

"A worthless human who ain't nothin' but a waste of space. He's too tall, too fat, ain't happy enough, too ugly... He just ain't good enough for anybody. He tries and tries and tries, but nothin' ever goes right for him. He's too sensitive. If someone gets in a fight with him, he can sit and convince himself that that person hates him just because they raised their voice. He's no good. He's annoying. He don't do nothin' right n only makes a mess of everything."

"Wanna know what I see?"

"Sure."

"I see an amazing human being who's worth a lot more than he thinks. He's a good person, he's got a great heart. He's not too tall or too fat. He's got brown hair that never does what he wants it to do, and he always gets mad at it. It's always funny 'cause he goes lookin' for the hair gel and can't find it, and it only makes him madder than what he already is. He's got hazel-green eyes with brown flecks around the pupil, an' it makes 'em look real purdy. He's the best out of the McCoy family. He'd do anything for anybody without complaint and he does his best t' cheer everybody up when they're sad. He's a whole lot of good, one of the best comedians in the family, and if he messes up, he's quick to apologize n fix it. He's one heck of a human, an' he's only sixteen."

"That's... very diff'rent from what I think," Bud chuckled. "I don't think of it that way. I think my hair's a terrible color and a mess, an' that my eyes are a hideous shade of green."

"Well, they're not. Have ya ever actually took the time t' look at 'em, Bud?"

"Not really. I know they're green. That's good enough for me. I just... eyes are the first thing I notice about a person. If asked, I say my eyes are my favorite feature 'cause they're the one I hate the least. I don't wanna ruin that by lookin' at 'em."

"Here, let me take a picture of one of your eyes and you can see for yourself."

"What? No, Tolbert, that's a bad idea," Bud denied instantly.

"No, it's not. Maybe for once, you'll see what I see."

"Alright," he conceded.

Tolbert took the picture and showed it to Bud, whose face pinched in a bewildered expression as he slowly shook his head.

"N-no, Tol, this can't be mine." He looked up at Tolbert.

"Why not?" Tolbert asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

"Tolbert, the iris — it's too pretty t' be mine."

"Well, it's yours. Ya've got pretty eyes."

"Ya really think that?"

"I do," Tolbert nodded, carding his fingers through Bud's hair.

"You have purdy eyes too, Tol. They're a real purdy blue."

"Well, thank ya, kid," Tolbert laughed softly. "Did ya sleep last night?"

"No."

"I can tell. You're about half-asleep."

"Mmm."

"You're adorable when you're sleep-deprived," Tolbert snorted.

"Shut up."

* * *

Tolbert was really getting tired of going to the high school. He'd gotten out of it nearly ten years ago, and he'd rather spend his day off at home, watching movies rather than go to the high school every time someone claimed Bud did something to get him in trouble.

So when he went to Mr. Smith's office, he found Bud and a very displeased Mr. Smith. Bud shrugged innocently as Tolbert sat down.

"Mr. McCoy, I'm really getting tired of this. Your brother admitted to punching Mr. Johnson in the face, but he won't say why he did it."

"You did what?" Tolbert turned his head toward Bud.

"I had a good reason," Bud shrugged.

"Then please, _share it!_"

"I don't mean t' be disrespectful, sir, but it wouldn't make a difference if I told you why I did it. I've come to you before over William and the things he's done t' me, and you haven't done a thing, despite the "no bullying" policy this school has. I'd rather get suspended for a reason than sit and take it."

Tolbert lowered his head to hide a smile. It was about time Bud stood up for himself. He took a second to compose himself before clearing his throat.

"So, how long do I keep him home this time?"

"It _was _going to be two days for assaulting a student. But since he decided to be rude, we'll make it five."

"Alright. Let's go, kid. We have a lot t' talk about," Tolbert shot him a look.

Bud sighed, standing and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Tolbert followed and waited until they were out of the front door to say anything.

"It's about time you did somethin'! What'd ya hit him for?"

"He kept bad-mouthing you. I told him t' stop or I was gonna hit him," Bud answered honestly. "He didn't stop."

"William's never been one t' know when he should shut his mouth," Tolbert remarked.

"Ain't that the truth."

"And let me get somethin' straight here. He can look at ya and say anything he wants about you, but the second he insults one of us, ya lose your temper?"

"That's the basics of it, yeah," Bud nodded. "I don't regret it. It felt _amazing._ For years he's done nothin' but hit me n make fun of me. I finally hit him t'day, Tol. Are ya mad?"

"Heck no," Tolbert assured him with a laugh, throwing his arm around his shoulders. "I'm proud of ya, Buddy. This is the one instance I don't care for ya startin' the fight. Ya did warn him."

"I reckon. Mr. Smith ain't too happy with me."

"Is he ever?" Tolbert asked.

"No, not really," Bud shook his head. "I think I like havin' a legit reason t' be suspended. Don't make me feel stupid when I know I've actually done somethin'."

"Good. Now throw your backpack in the truck. We're gonna go do whatever you want. Poppy can find out about it later."

Bud laughed — a legitimate, joyful laugh — and threw his bag in the truck. He was sure today would be a good day, even if he did get suspended.


	5. Baby Mine (AU)

_**A/N** _  
_Hi! Just a heads up that this is an AU, and that Ran'l is a jerk in this. Hope you like it!_

* * *

**_March 1865_**

Ten-year-old Tolbert held his baby brother in his arms, silent tears rolling down his face. He sniffled and looked down at the babe, fixing the blanket that was wrapped around him.

"What're ya doin', Tolbert?" Ran'l sighed tiredly.

"I—"

"That the new baby?"

"Yes, sir," Tolbert whispered.

"What'd she name him?"

"Randolph Junior. We call 'im Bud, though."

"That boy is the reason Sally died," Ran'l stated. "I don't want him."

"I'll take care of 'im, Poppy. I swear I will! Ya can't get rid of him, Poppy, he's jus' a baby!" Tolbert pleaded.

"You keep him with you at all times. But if ya ever move out of this house, he stays here, is that understood?"

"Yes, Poppy."

* * *

Tolbert awoke to the sound of Bud wailing. Jim groaned, shooting Tolbert a nasty look as he got out of bed.

"He's a baby, Jim," Tolbert tried to reason, suppressing his own annoyance at the wake-up call.

"A baby that Poppy didn't want," Jim grumbled.

"I don't care!" Tolbert lifted Bud out of his cradle. "He's my brother jus' as much as you are, an' he ain't goin' nowhere."

"I don't care about that. Get him back t' sleep!"

"I will after I change him."

Jim grunted.

Tolbert changed Bud, then lifted him, cradling him in his arms and shushing him softly. He walked to the window, sitting down on the chair and gently rocking back and forth, trying to lull the babe to sleep. Bud only cooed, looking up at Tolbert with wide eyes. Tolbert giggled and lifted one hand, allowing Bud to grasp his finger.

This was the tenth night in a row that Bud had woke up in the middle of the night and hadn't gone back to sleep. Tolbert didn't mind it nearly as much as he thought he would. He got to see the stars this way; and he got to cradle his baby brother, who always gave an adorable smile whenever he was with Tolbert and he was happy.

Tolbert didn't mind getting up if it meant Bud was there. As long as the baby was happy and healthy, Tolbert didn't care.

* * *

**_February 1869_**

Tolbert huffed as he went back inside, finding Bud at the kitchen table. He looked to Roseanna and Alifair, who both shrugged.

"He wouldn't talk to us." Alifair gently tapped the boy's shoulder. "Hey, Buddy. Tolbert's back."

"Tol'ert?" Bud lifted his head, revealing his flushed face.

"Hey, Buddy. What's the matter wit'cha?" Tolbert lifted the boy and placed him on his hip, pressing his hand to his forehead. He gasped and jerked his hand back.

"I don't feel good," he moaned, laying his head on Tolbert's shoulder.

Tolbert sighed and took him upstairs, setting him on the bed before digging around for the boy's nightshirt. He found it at the bottom of Bud's chest and snatched it, returning to the bed.

"Stand up."

Tolbert unbuttoned the shirt, pulling it off of Bud's sweaty frame. His eyes landed on a rash on Bud's chest, fear seizing his heart and squeezing it tightly.

"Oh my God."

He sighed as he started to unknot the rope tied around Bud's waist. He only had one pair of pants and the button had fallen off that morning since it had been barely hanging by a string, and Tolbert had to think of something fast to get them both downstairs in time for breakfast.

Bud whined, his bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

"You act like I wanted t' tie this around ya this mornin'. We ain't got no belts small enough t' fit you and if ya wanna keep your britches up, you're gonna tie this around ya until one of the girls can fix that stupid button."

Bud huffed. If Tolbert hadn't known what the rash on Bud's chest meant, he would have found it adorable. He sighed when he finally got the knot undone, helping Bud out of his pants and into his nightshirt. He tucked him in, grabbing the clothes and assuring the boy that he'd be back shortly.

Tolbert raced down the stairs, stopping near Roseanna.

"Tell me, what all ya know 'bout scarlet fever?" Tolbert asked, looking between his sisters.

"Usually ends with death. Uh, one way t' tell if ya got it is a rash on yer chest. Said it can ruin yer hearing an' sight."

"I heard it's worse with chil'ren," Roseanna piped up.

"Alright, listen, I need you two t' take care of him while I'm gone. I gotta go find Doc, he's — he's got a rash on his chest an' he's burnin' up. Maybe put a cold cloth on his head?"

"Yeah, we'll take care of him. Go!" Alifair ushered him toward the door. Tolbert nodded and hurried out. He had to find Doc Rutherford.

* * *

Tolbert didn't find the doctor until late the next evening. He'd been at the Whites, since Mrs. White had just had her baby, and didn't make his way into town until the next morning. Tolbert had managed to find out he'd gone to the Whites by then and had ridden out there, only to be told he'd left late the night before and they assumed he was at his office in town.

"Doc!" Tolbert shouted, dismounting and stumbling. "Doc, ya gotta come quick! I think Bud's got scarlet fever."

"It's too dark now, son. We'll never make it. Ya stay at my place t'night an' we'll go first thing in the morning."

"But Doc—"

"Tolbert, it's too dangerous t' try these roads at night. First thing in the mornin', we'll go t' your house, okay?"

"Okay," Tolbert conceded.

* * *

Tolbert had been right — Bud had scarlet fever.

It didn't help matters any when he finally walked through the door and Alifair told him that Bud had gotten worse. Doc Rutherford immediately went upstairs, telling Tolbert it would be best if he stayed downstairs with the girls. Tolbert only nodded and spent a lot of the time telling Roseanna and Alifair why he'd been gone for two days.

He felt horrible when Doc came back downstairs, telling him that he'd been right and what the procedure for it was. It made Tolbert sick, but he agreed to it. He needed Bud just as much as Bud needed him.

He sat down, biting on his lower lip. He bit it so hard that it split.

"He's gonna scream. He's gonna scream. _He's gonna scream,_" Tolbert murmured over and over, until finally, Bud's scream pierced the peaceful solitude that enveloped the cabin.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands pulling at his ginger curls, his forehead resting against the heels of his hands. Roseanna and Alifair gazed at him. They knew Tolbert wasn't the type to really show how he felt or when he was scared, but at the present moment, he didn't care.

They had known for a while that Tolbert's greatest fear was to lose Bud. They'd figured that out the day he couldn't find him (he'd hidden in the barn) and Tolbert had been nearly hysterical while trying to tell them what was wrong.

"He's gonna be okay," Roseanna whispered, sitting down beside Tolbert.

"Ya don't know that, Roseanna. Don't say things ya ain't sure of."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Tolbert. Bud's a strong boy."

Tolbert felt like his heart was in a million pieces. How he wished Sally was there. She would know exactly what to do; she always did. Tolbert missed his mother dearly, and he wasn't sure he could take losing another person in his life. It could have been what drove him to insanity.

"Tolbert."

"Yeah?"

"May I speak with ya upstairs?" Doc Rutherford asked.

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded, following the man upstairs.

"He'll be fine in a day or two. _But _I'm afraid the fever isn't going to go away without leaving its mark."

"What d'ya mean by that?" Tolbert asked nervously.

"He can't hear in his right ear. It'll be like that the rest of his life."

"Oh God," Tolbert breathed. "I — but he'll be okay? He won't die on me?"

"He'll be fine, Tolbert. Just keep him away from church tomorrow and it'll be alright. We don't need any more children — or grown people, for that matter — catchin' the scarlet fever. I'll go tell your father that he is to stay at home tomorrow, a'ight?"

"A'ight. Thanks, Doc."

The man nodded and headed downstairs. Tolbert let out a shaky breath, deciding to go check on Bud.

He pushed the door open, slipping inside the room and gently closing it in case the boy was sleeping. He slowly approached the bed, sitting on the edge and carding his fingers through Bud's thick, sweaty locks of honey-brown hair.

He was sleeping, his lips slightly parted and his head turned to his left. Tolbert could see why. He knew what the procedure was for scarlet fever — they'd cut them and let them bleed. He believed it was called bloodletting, but he wasn't entirely sure. All he knew is that it made Bud scream.

Tolbert burst into a sob, his right hand flying up to his mouth to muffle the sobs that tore from his throat. Bud was just three years old. He didn't deserve to have his father hate him, or to go deaf in his right ear. Bud deserved all the happiness and love in the world — and Tolbert tried to make him happy. Bud rarely asked for anything when they went out, so he would use the little money he had to get it for him if he could. And he had no doubt that Bud was loved. Tolbert spent all of his waking hours with him when he could.

So Bud knew that he was loved, and he was relatively happy. He was never happy when Ran'l was around, though, and it might have been the stench of moonshine that made the boy uncomfortable. After Sally died, Ran'l became a drunk, but still insisted on raising his children in church. So they went to Sunday meeting each week and to the Easter and Christmas services.

Tolbert had no doubt that his father would throw a fit over him not going tomorrow. But Bud was recovering from scarlet fever, and he'd had direct orders to keep him inside. Tolbert couldn't leave a sick three-year-old at home by himself. Tolbert was sure if his mother was still alive, she'd back him up and agree with him.

But she wasn't.

And Tolbert missed her terribly. He wanted his mother, but he knew it was impossible. Times like these were when he missed her the most; when he was scared and confused and didn't know what to do. Sally _always _knew what to do. Tolbert didn't.

Tolbert was a thirteen-year-old boy that had had a major responsibility thrust upon him when he was ten. He didn't want Ran'l to send Bud away or whatever it was he was planning to do, so he had immediately offered to take care of him. And he had done well, so far, but he hadn't anticipated something like _scarlet fever._

And Tolbert felt absolutely horrible for it. But what could he really do to stop it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He probably should have expected Bud to get sick — he'd been sick the day before Tolbert found the rash. Tolbert had thought it was a normal illness that would pass in a day or two, but it had ended up being something much worse.

But Bud would be okay. He'd caught it in enough time for Doc Rutherford to perform the procedure and he was going to be okay. That was all that mattered.

* * *

"_TOLBERT!_" Ran'l burst into the room, eyes ablaze with fury. "What's this 'bout Doc Rutherford n you not goin' t' Sunday meetin'?"

"Poppy, Bud had scarlet—"

"I don't care _what _he had! He killed yer mother, Tolbert, don't ya understand that?!"

"He had scarlet fever an' he's gone deaf in his right ear," Tolbert continued. "Doc Rutherford said t' keep him inside, so I am. I ain't takin' him out when Doc said t' keep him home."

"Tolbert, I've told ya 'bout this."

"Poppy, he coulda died!" Tolbert stood up, eyes wide as he tried to make his father understand.

"It woulda been one less mouth t' feed," Ran'l retorted.

"You may not care if he dies or not, but I do! He's a _child, _Poppy! He's the last thing Mama gave us b'fore she crossed Jordan."

"Don't ya go talkin' like he's some miracle, Tolbert."

"He's the only one outta all of us that never got t' meet Mama. An' he's still here, Poppy, _he's still here! _If Mama was still alive, you'd love him jus' like ya do the rest of us!"

"Stop, Tolbert!"

"_No! _Ya have no reason t' hate him, Poppy."

"He killed your mother, Tolbert. That's reason enough."

"_He didn't kill her!_"

"Tolbert, don't go talkin' 'bout the things ya don't know about."

"But I do, Poppy, I do! Aunt Betty was here. She knows what happened. An' she said Bud didn't kill Mama."

"Yer lucky I let ya take care of 'im. We can't 'ford a lot, Tolbert!"

"How is that his fault? _How is that his fault, _Poppy?! He's three years old! He can barely walk up and down the stairs without hurtin' himself!"

"Tolbert, I'm tellin' you, ya better stop," Ran'l growled.

"Bud ain't done nothin'. He jus' wants ya t' love him, Poppy. He wants ya t' love him like ya love the rest of us. Why can't ya do that?"

"Tolbert—"

"_Answer me!_" Tolbert demanded, tired of Ran'l avoiding his questions by threatening him. "Ya have no right t' hate him, Poppy! He's still yer son, whether ya like it or—"

Tolbert cut himself off with a yelp, falling to the floor. Ran'l stood above him, fist clenched.

"Keep talkin', boy. I promise ya won't like it," Ran'l threatened.

Tolbert kept his mouth shut. He wasn't stupid enough to keep talking. He kept his eyes cast down, watching as Ran'l stomped out of the room.

* * *

When Bud awoke the next morning, his fever was gone. Tolbert was certain he'd never felt so much relief in his life.

"Tol'ert."

"Hey, Buddy... Ya feelin' any better?" Tolbert kept his voice soft, trying to ignore the sinking feeling when he realized Bud might not be able to hear him with his head turned.

"Tol'ert," the little boy's voice was filled with fear. "Tol'ert, I can't 'ear! _I can't 'ear!_"

Tolbert gathered the little boy into his arms, shushing him softly. He held him against him, leaning down close to his left ear.

"This one still works. It's okay. The fever just messed up the other one."

It didn't stop Bud from crying. Tolbert held him, rocking back and forth in a futile attempt to soothe him.

"When — when will it work?"

"It won't."

"_Why?!_"

"I don't know, baby, I don't know," Tolbert shook his head, trying to calm Bud down. "But it's okay! See, ya still got this side, it works jus' fine. We'll just have t' make sure ya can hear us when we talk t' you."

Tolbert stood, lifting the boy as he grabbed the shirt he'd intended to change into, going downstairs.

"Know what we'll do? We'll give ya a nice, warm bath. Get ya all nice n clean, then I'll get ya somethin' t' eat."

Tolbert set Bud down on the bench at the table, knowing he couldn't get off of it on his own. He was too afraid to. He went out and dragged the tub inside, going back and shutting the door. Tolbert lit a fire in the stove and set a couple of pots on top, each filled with water.

He heard Bud whine and looked over at him, seeing him smacking his ear repeatedly.

"Hey, hey! Don't do that," Tolbert chided softly, rushing over and pulling his hand away. "That won't help it none, Buddy."

Bud sobbed, tears spilling onto his face.

"Oh, baby, don't cry," Tolbert begged. "I know it's irritatin', but ya can't do nothin' about it. I promise you'll feel better once ya've had a bath an' ya've ate somethin'."

"Y' p'omise?" Bud sniffled, hazel-green eyes gleaming with tears.

"Yeah, Buddy. I promise," Tolbert nodded. "Now... now, don't hit yerself again, okay? I'm gonna get the water off the stove."

Bud nodded. He supposed he could do that. But his ear wasn't _working. _He should be able to hear out of it. Why couldn't he hear?

"You're a little too young t' really understand it. But once yer older an' ya do, you'll see that everythin's okay. Things could be a lot worse than you only havin' one good ear, Buddy."

Bud's brows creased in confusion. None of it made sense to him. But Tolbert had said that it would when he was older. Bud could trust Tolbert; he'd never lied to him before. So why would he lie now?

* * *

**_June 1872_**

Ran'l had given Tolbert a piece of land on the edge of their property. Tolbert had built a still and a cabin, and after having a few heated words with Ran'l over Bud, he left. He swore that Bud would eventually end up living with him, though Ran'l doubted that. Bud was only seven (nearly eight) years old, after all.

Bud had gone to bed a little earlier than usual that night. He had his good ear pressed against his pillow and was dozing off. He lazily adjusted the blanket before tucking his arm against his chest, his eyes fluttering shut.

A little while later, Bud woke up from a nightmare and ran downstairs. He didn't have Tolbert anymore, and Jim had moved out a year or two ago to marry some girl from town, so Ran'l was really the only person Bud had left.

"Poppy! Poppy, I'm scared!" Bud cried, running up to the man who was sitting in his favorite rocking chair, a bottle in hand.

"What're ya scared of?" Ran'l asked softly.

Bud was taken aback. Ran'l had never spoken so softly to him before.

"M' dream."

Ran'l gazed down at the boy, and Bud gazed up at him, neither saying a word. Ran'l kept his face expressionless.

A dream. Bud had decided to bother him over _a dream. _It was a petty thing to bother him over, really. Tolbert had let the boy become too soft. Much too soft for him to be any son of Ran'l's.

And it angered him. So Ran'l shifted, taking the bottle and putting it to his lips. He took a drink of the bitter liquid and set the bottle on the floor. Bud shouldn't be bothering him over a dream. He should be in bed, sleeping, despite the dream he'd had.

Ran'l smacked the boy roughly, catching his bad ear. Bud yelped and stumbled, eyes widening as Ran'l stood up. Ran'l could see how scared he was. But it didn't stop him.

He slapped him across the face, the force causing the boy to hit the floor. Bud's breathing quickened. He wasn't sure what he'd done. All he knew was that Ran'l was drunk (or that's what Tolbert said whenever Bud asked why Ran'l had one of those bottles) and he was angry. _Very _angry.

"Ya might be able t' fool Tolbert n the rest with that ear o' yours, but ya can't fool me! I knows ya can hear in it!" Ran'l seethed.

"But I can't, Poppy, _I can't!_" Bud wailed, his hand moving to cover his ear.

"Ya can't do nothin', can ya? Ya didn't even come int' this world without causin' trouble!" Ran'l shouted.

Alifair opened the door to her room, peering out to see what was going on.

"Ya come int' the world an' ya kill yer mother! Ya've been nothin' but a burden on this fam'ly!"

Bud flinched away from Ran'l. Ran'l jerked his hand away from his ear, hitting it. Bud cried out. He couldn't understand what he'd done. And he'd killed their Mama? How had he done that?

"If it wa'n't for Tolbert, ya wouldn't even be in this house!" Ran'l roared, backhanding the little boy. Bud managed to get on his feet and backed up until his back was pressed against the wall. "Speak up, boy! _Speak up!_"

"Poppy, d-don't hurt m-m-me!" Bud pleaded.

"Poppy, _no!_" Alifair exclaimed, running out of her room and laying a hand on Ran'l's arm. "Poppy, he's jus' a lil boy. He didn't mean no harm. Please don't hurt 'im, Poppy."

Ran'l looked down at her, scowled, and stalked out of the house.

* * *

Tolbert was there bright and early the next morning. He went upstairs, knowing that Bud would still be sleeping, and slipped into the room as silently as he could.

From where he stood, he could see that Bud's skin was red, including his ear. His brows furrowed and he approached, trying to be as silent as possible, despite knowing that the boy couldn't hear him the way he was laying.

At first, Tolbert had tried to think logically. He thought that maybe, _just maybe, _Bud had been sleeping on that side and rolled over, hence the flushed face and reddened ear. But once he was close enough, he could tell that Bud's face wasn't flushed. It was _bruising._

He crouched down, gently shaking Bud's shoulder. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, so he would have to ask Bud what happened. Bud was an honest child. Maybe it was because he was terrible at lying, or because each time he almost got away with a lie, he confessed to it and took the punishment without complaint. Tolbert was certain that honesty was one trait he'd inherited from their mother.

Bud startled awake, immediately smacking at Tolbert and whining as his eyes shot open. Seeing Tolbert, he stopped. He sat up, blinking a few times.

"Tol?" he whispered quietly. His voice was so quiet that Tolbert barely heard him.

"Yeah, Bud. What happened t' ya?" Tolbert asked, cupping the boy's cheek. Bud closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Why couldn't Ran'l be like Tolbert? Why couldn't his father love him like Tolbert did?

Tolbert rubbed Bud's cheek with the pad of his thumb, the little boy humming in contentment.

"What happened t' yer face, Buddy?" Tolbert repeated.

"I had a bad dream last night n went t' Poppy. He-he got mad at me an' he hit me. He thinks I can really hear outta this ear, Tol, but I _can't. _He hit my ear twice. He-he said that I killed Mama. Did — did I really kill Mama?"

"_No,_" Tolbert denied instantly. "Ya didn't kill Mama. Nobody killed Mama. Mama jus' died, an' it wasn't nobody's fault."

"But Poppy said—"

"And he's _wrong. _Ya didn't kill Mama, Buddy. An' he shouldn't've hit ya. There's a diff'rence b'tween discipline an' beatin'."

"I'm real sorry," Bud burst into a sob. "I didn't know."

"I know. I've told ya what happened t' Mama. R'member? Did he hurt ya too bad?"

Bud shook his head. Tolbert hummed, letting the little boy lay his head on his shoulder. He scratched the back of Bud's head, Bud humming and nuzzling the crook of Tolbert's neck.

"Why can't Poppy love me?" Bud murmured.

"I — I don't know, Bud," Tolbert mumbled, knowing that he wouldn't be able to lie to him. "But I love ya, an' so does everyone else in this family. But they can't ever love ya as much as I do. I'm sorry I can't let ya live with me. Poppy won't let me take ya outta here."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Get dressed. I'm gonna go talk t' Poppy."

* * *

Tolbert found Ran'l downstairs at the table, sipping coffee.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" Tolbert asked, leaning against the table.

"Find out _what, _Tolbert?" Ran'l looked up at him, a warning in his eyes.

"That ya hit him, Poppy! Ya told me ya wouldn't hurt him, and the first night I'm gone, _ya hit him!_" Tolbert screamed.

"It ain't none of your concern, Tolbert," Ran'l stated harshly.

"No? That's my brother ya hit, Poppy. An' don't think I don't know about you tellin' him that he's foolin' everyone an' that he killed Mama. None of that's true and ya know it!"

"The boy is too soft. That's _yer _doin', Tolbert."

"_He's a child!_"

"A child that I let ya keep. I figured ya'd at least have the decency t' make him like us."

"He is! He's just like us! He's a McCoy through n through, but he's a _child, _Poppy! He's seven years old an' he don't know how t' calm down after a bad dream!"

"Well, maybe he should learn!"

"You was never this way with any of us! What makes Bud any different?!" Tolbert demanded.

"He killed yer mother!" Ran'l roared.

"He did no such thing!"

"Yes, he did, Tolbert!"

"You're wrong," Tolbert said shakily. The room went silent, save for a pan clattering against the floor at Roseanna's feet. "Doc Rutherford said that Bud had nothin' t' do with Mama's death."

"Tolbert, ya best sit down and shut yer mouth."

"Ya hit a little boy in the ear that he's deaf in, Poppy. Ya hit an _innocent _little boy across the face. All b'cause he came t' you after he had a bad dream. That ain't right, Poppy. It ain't right at all!"

"That's enough, Tolbert!" Ran'l slammed his hand on the table, startling Alifair and Roseanna. "If ya can't see that boy is puttin' on a show with that ear, yer blind!"

"_He's deaf in that ear!_" Tolbert argued. "Doc says he's deaf in his right ear! Ya wasn't there when he woke up after he lost hearin' in that ear. Ya didn't have t' try to explain it to a three-year-old _child _why he couldn't hear in that ear no more. Ya wasn't the one that held him while he cried, or helped him get used to it. I was, Poppy! I was the one that was there for him!"

"I said _enough!_" Ran'l stood up, eyes ablaze with fury.

"No! It's not enough, Poppy. D'you know what he wants, Poppy? All he wants is for you t' love him! Ya don't know how much it hurts t' tell a seven-year-old that their father don't love them. Ya wasn't the one gettin' up in the middle of the night t' change him, or feed him, or just hold him until he went back t' sleep. _I was! _He just wants you t' love him, Poppy!"

"Why don't you?"

"I have and I do! I love him more than anythin' in this world. But it's a real shame when I have t' give him the love that you don't."

Tolbert grunted and stumbled, being knocked off balance with the unanticipated punch. He regained his balance and glared at his father. He wouldn't hit him, he would never hit him unless the situation called for it.

"I want you t' listen t' me for one minute!" Tolbert yelled. "I swear t' ya, if ya touch him again an' harm him, if ya even harm a _hair _on his head, I will be takin' him out of this house. Whether you like it or not."

* * *

**_October 1878_**

Bud had been taking beatings for years that no one knew about. He was too afraid of what Ran'l might do to him to even consider telling anyone. If Tolbert asked where he got the bruises or a black eye, he would lie and say he acquired it by being clumsy. He'd punched himself in the eye while trying to pull something loose, he'd tripped and hit the wall a little harder than he should've, he'd gotten into a fight with Calvin.

And Tolbert never questioned it.

Bud had taken some brutal beatings since Tolbert left, and had done well with keeping them hidden. But the night of the hog trial, which the McCoys lost, Bud took an extremely brutal beating. His right ear had never bled because of a beating, as Ran'l liked to hit Bud's ear while doing it, and it was now, with a handkerchief pressed against it.

The storm outside was terrible. But he knew that he couldn't stay there any longer if he wished to live. So he stayed sprawled on the floor until Ran'l had gone to bed.

He slowly, painfully got up, and stumbled out the door into the storm.

* * *

Tolbert had never liked to cut vegetables. As a matter of fact, he didn't like to cook at all.

He heard the door open and paid no mind to it. He had no doubt that one of his siblings would eventually wind up at his place, but he hadn't expected them to go out in the middle of a storm.

"Tol — Tolbert," Bud spoke softly. "I think... I think I'm gonna — I'm gonna—"

Bud never finished his sentence.

"You're gonna what?" Tolbert called over his shoulder, lifting his gaze to see his brother. He wasn't there. Tolbert set the knife down and turned around, moving toward the open door. He stopped when he caught sight of Bud, who was lying on the floor, unconscious. "_Oh my God!_"

Tolbert closed the door and bent down, picking Bud up bridal style. He carried him to his room, laying him on the bed before rushing back to the kitchen to get some water.

Bud was a bloody mess. His left eye was swollen and his lips and nose were bleeding, as was his right ear. Tolbert had a pretty good idea of what had happened, and he wasn't about to sit by and let his little brother get beaten to death by their father.

Once back in the bedroom, Tolbert set the bowl of water down and set a handkerchief in it. He went over to Bud, shaking him.

"Bud, wake up! Please, Buddy, wake up for me. I need ya t' wake up, Bud!"

He didn't. So Tolbert pulled him to a sitting position, taking the boy's shirt and undershirt off of him. He moaned, his head lazily falling forward. Tolbert could see his torso was a mixture of purple and blue; he was bruised terribly around his ribs. Tolbert carefully laid him down again, reaching over to the table beside the bed and grabbing the handkerchief.

He wrung it out and started to clean the blood off of Bud. He paused when he noticed something in Bud's right hand. He gently took hold of it and pried Bud's fingers away, revealing a bloodied handkerchief. He recognized it to be the one that Tolbert had bought for him at one of the Election Day festivals, the one that had an embroidered _B _on it in red thread.

Bud had always loved the color red, and had been about ten when Tolbert bought it for him. Tolbert hadn't thought much of it, despite knowing that their sisters or their Aunt Betty could have easily made one for him with his full name. It was only a few cents, what did it matter? Bud was a good kid that deserved the world, in Tolbert's opinion.

And Tolbert had known that Ran'l didn't approve of him "spoiling" Bud. But in Ran'l's opinion, even loving Bud was considered spoiling him. Tolbert was always the first to put Ran'l in his place when he got out of line with Bud in front of him, and he was always the last person to let go of Bud whenever he hugged him. He never complained and always listened to what he had to say, even held him as he cried while he swore that he couldn't tell Tolbert what was bothering him.

Now Tolbert was starting to wonder if maybe _this _was what Bud had been hiding from him. He knew that Ran'l could be a frightening man, especially when he threatened someone, and he had no doubt that he would do it to Bud. Tolbert only hoped that Bud wasn't hurt too badly.

* * *

Bud awoke with a groan, blinking a few times to clear his hazy vision. He didn't recognize the room at first, and it scared him. The last thing he remembered was making it to Tolbert's front porch.

He sucked in a sharp breath, shifting slightly in an attempt to ease the pain. The door to the room opened, a disheveled Tolbert entering and not noticing that Bud was awake. Instead, he gently grasped Bud's injured wrist and bandaged it.

His eyes flicked up to Bud's face, wearing a solemn expression. It melted away to relief the instant he realized Bud was awake.

"Tol... 'm sorry," he breathed, face pinching in a pained expression.

"For what?" Tolbert asked softly, brushing Bud's hair off of his face.

"Lyin'. 'M so sorry."

"Hey, don't ya worry about that. If you'd've told me sooner, I coulda got ya outta there b'fore this happened."

"Poppy said he'd hurt me real bad if I ever told anybody. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Buddy. I jus' wish it didn't take ya faintin' in the middle of my kitchen t' find out about it."

"I-I made it inside?" Bud stuttered.

"Yeah. Here, gimme your hand."

Bud did as he was told, observing Tolbert while he wrapped a bandage around his hand. Tolbert was clenching his jaw, and it looked like he'd been crying. His eyes were red and a little puffy, but other than that, he looked fine. Although he did have the top few buttons of his shirt undone and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his ginger curls going in every direction. Bud wasn't sure he'd ever seen Tolbert look so disheveled.

"Why're ya starin' at me?" Tolbert asked plainly, but not unkindly.

"Don't think I've ever seen ya look like this," Bud mumbled, shifting as a pain seared through his ribs.

"Like what?"

"Yer hair's all messy, yer eyes are red, an-an' the top of your shirt's undone with the sleeves pushed up. Never seen ya look like that. Not even at harvest."

"Mm. Reckon ya just scared me right real good," Tolbert mumbled, tying off the bandage. "I'll go over t' Poppy's first thing t'morrow an' git your stuff."

"Why?"

"I told him that if I ever found out he hurt ya or even harmed a hair on your head, I'd take you outta there whether he liked it or not. Been around six years since we had that conversation, but I intend t' keep my word," Tolbert elaborated. His eyes flicked up and met Bud's. "You ain't goin' back there."

A fearful expression crossed Bud's face. What would Ran'l say to that? He and Tolbert fought often over Bud, and it made Bud feel terrible. And Bud, who was nearly fourteen years old, still didn't completely understand why Ran'l didn't love him. Not even the slightest bit.

"I — Ya sure? Poppy won't like ya very much if ya do," Bud said quietly.

"I could care less," Tolbert huffed. "He hasn't liked me much since you were three. Can't make it no worse, really."

Bud yelped when Tolbert touched his ribs.

"Sorry," he winced.

"'S okay. An' yeah, ya could. He could hate ya like he does me."

Tolbert fell silent. He wasn't sure what he could say, so he stayed silent. Bud knew that Tolbert loved him, he had no doubt of that. So really, there was nothing he _could _say.

"I — I thought I would understand it when I got older," Bud started, his voice soft. "But I don't. I'm almost fourteen an' I still don't understand why Poppy hates me. All he says is that I killed Mama. That it's my fault that Mama's dead. An' I'm so _sorry._"

"Ya didn't kill Mama. Mama was poorly when she had you. She'd been that way for a while n refused t' let me or Jim go fetch Doc. She got real weak an' she didn't make it. It wasn't your fault."

"Why does Poppy hate me?" Bud asked in a broken whisper.

"He wanted someplace t' put the blame. He put it on you, even though you were jus' five months old when he met ya. Reckon he thought it would help the hurt, but it didn't. Nothin' will help the hurt that comes from losin' somebody ya love."

"Oh. That's — that's not what I expected."

"No? Did ya expect a legitimate reason?"

"Yeah," he nodded slightly. "I did."

"I know. It's... it's hard t' grow up the way ya have. Ya had me for seven years of your life and then it was like I disappeared. I wanted t' bring ya with me, I swear I did, but Poppy wouldn't let me. After a while of him repeatin' "we made an agreement", I remembered the agreement we made when I was ten. Not real sure if ya can call it that, though."

"What was it?"

"That I'd take care of ya n keep ya with me, but if I ever moved out, you stayed there. Then I made a promise to him the day after I moved out n ya told me he'd hit ya an' told ya all that he did. That's why you're gonna be livin' with me now. Yer still a child, ya need t' enjoy life. Not sit around an' wonder why Poppy hates ya an' worry 'bout someone findin' a bruise on ya."

Tolbert looked down at Bud, sighing deeply.

"Try t' get some rest, Buddy."

* * *

Tolbert hadn't intended to say a word to Ran'l when he went to collect Bud's things. But, as it turned out, it didn't go that way.

He had been carrying Bud's chest down the stairs — after he'd stuffed the few things Bud had hidden from Ran'l inside it — when he ran into Ran'l.

"What're ya doin'?"

"Gettin' his things. I told ya if I ever found out ya hurt him again, he'd be livin' with me."

"Tolbert, ya can't just—"

"Don't you tell me what I can and can't do!" Tolbert cut him off. "I told ya that if ya ever harmed him, I'd take him out of this house. That's exactly what I intend t' do, whether you like it or not."

Tolbert made his way past him, setting the chest down on the floor.

"Ya can't do that, Tolbert!"

"I can't? Well, gee, Poppy, since I'm the one that raised him, I think I can."

"You're bein' ridiculous!"

"Ridiculous?" Tolbert gawked. "He showed up at my home an' fainted in the middle of my kitchen. He was a bloody mess, Poppy, an' we both know that you are the one that did that t' him. A father don't do that t' their son, Poppy."

"No?" Ran'l raised a brow, folding his arms over his chest.

"No. A father is s'pposed t' love their child unconditionally. They're s'pposed t' love that child _no matter what! _Sure, discipline is fine, but there's a fine line between discipline an' a beating. Ya did nothin' but beat him and tell him that he's the reason Mama died. Ya told him that he pretends t' be deaf in his right ear. Ya think he enjoys that, Poppy? Do ya really think that Bud enjoys not bein' able t' hear on one side? I can tell ya right now, he don't. He hates it."

"Tolbert, I'm his father. I decide what's—"

"Oh, don't you even go there!" Tolbert lashed out, blue eyes ablaze with fury. "I was more of a father t' Bud than you ever were! Heck, maybe the right way to say it is that I _am _a better father t' him than ya ever will be. No father jus' hates their son for no good reason. You know as well I do that a sickness killed Mama."

"Who d'ya think ya are, Tolbert McCoy? Ya have no right t' say anythin' ya jus' said!"

"It's the truth, ain't it? I'm the one that raised him, Poppy. Not you. Ya ain't done nothin' but hurt that boy, an' I ain't gonna let ya do it no more. He's not comin' back here. I promise ya that much."

And with that, Tolbert turned, picked up the chest, and walked out the door.

* * *

When Tolbert returned home, he found Bud in the kitchen. He was too focused on his task to notice Tolbert. Tolbert sat the trunk down with a grunt, noticing Bud glancing at him over his shoulder.

"You n Poppy get into it again?" Bud asked.

"Well... I don't know if that's what ya could call it, but yeah. That's-that's basically what happened."

"'Cause of me?"

"Yeah. 'Cause of you."

"Ain't no reason t' argue with Poppy over me, Tol. He hates me n you love me. Ya know, for a while when I was younger, I thought you were my father. Alifair's the one that told me that ya wasn't. I had t' be five when I thought that. It's strange, but it's somethin' I r'member."

"Yeah, well, Poppy never gave ya a reason t' believe he's your father," Tolbert muttered.

"What?" Bud blinked.

"He didn't. I ain't gonna lie t' you. Not once in yer life did he ever give ya a reason t' believe that he's your father. N that's pretty much what I told him."

"What'd ya tell 'im?" Bud queried, his head tilting to the side.

"Told him I'm more of a father t' ya than he was an' ever will be. He got mad at me over that, but I don't care. Also told him that you ain't goin' back there. Me n Poppy have diff'rent beliefs on what a father should be, I reckon."

"I like your beliefs better."

Tolbert laughed, shaking his head as he approached him.

"'M glad ya do. Go sit down n I'll fix us some breakfast."

"A'ight. I love ya, Tol."

"I love ya too, Bud."

* * *

**_February 1879_**

Bud laid in bed, staring at the wall across from him. He was cold, and he _really _didn't want to get up yet. The sun was barely risen, and Bud was trying to convince himself that he had to get up, no matter how much he wanted to just lay there under his thick blanket. There was work to be done, and it wasn't going to do itself.

But it was _so cold. _Not to mention Tolbert hadn't come in his room yet, so either he wasn't up or he hadn't gotten around to making his daily wake-up call yet. He could lay there until Tolbert did; that was appealing. Bud let himself doze off again, the world around him going black.

* * *

Tolbert knew that he'd eventually have to get Bud out of bed. He knew that Bud wouldn't get up on such a cold morning unless he was forced to, and that gave Tolbert time to run an important errand.

He wasn't sure if Aunt Betty had gotten busy or just plain forgot about it, but he knew that she'd finally finished it and that he had to go get it. It had been intended to be Bud's Christmas gift, but since Christmas had already passed — and Tolbert had acted swiftly and got the boy a new knife — he figured it would have to be a random gift.

And just in case the boy woke up, Tolbert scribbled a note for him, saying that he'd be back soon. Then he grabbed his hat and coat before going out into the bitter cold.

* * *

Tolbert was more than pleased with how the gift had turned out. He only hoped Bud felt the same way about it. He put it in his pocket and hid a few coins in Aunt Betty's kitchen (she refused to allow him to pay her for it) before leaving.

Returning home, he found that Bud was still in bed. It was nearing noon, and it made Tolbert worry. Bud wasn't really the type to sleep in so late, not unless he was sick. But Tolbert would give him the benefit of the doubt, and hope that maybe he just hadn't slept well the night before and was making up for it.

He entered Bud's room, finding the boy on his side.

"Bud, ya best get up. It's nearin' noon."

There was no response. Not even the slightest movement to show any acknowledgment to Tolbert. Just the rise and fall of Bud's chest as he breathed.

"Bud, I know ya hear me."

Then Tolbert realized that Bud had rolled over since the last time he'd checked on him, and he felt like an idiot. Bud wasn't responding because he couldn't hear him.

He sighed and walked over to him, shaking his head. He didn't know how he hadn't realized that before, but he knew he could get by with it by not mentioning it.

"_Psst,_" he hissed, shaking Bud's shoulder gently. Bud groaned and stirred, blinking awake. "Wake up, Buddy."

"'M awake," he yawned. "Wha' time 's it?"

"Almost noon."

"Why didn' ya wake me?"

"I had t' run an errand. Here," he pulled a folded handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Bud. Bud's brows furrowed. "Unfold it."

So Bud did as he was told, his eyes catching the red letters on it. They spelled out his name in an elegant script, one that awed Bud.

"Where'd ya get it?" Bud queried, his thumb running over the letters.

"Aunt Betty. I asked her if she could make one an' she said that she could. I was s'pposed t' have it before Christmas, but she either forgot about it or got busy. Ya know how Aunt Betty is sometimes."

"I — this is... why would ya get me this?"

"Yer other one got ruined n I know how much ya liked it. Figured the least I could do was replace it with a better one."

Bud looked down at it, then promptly burst into tears.

"Woah, hey, what's wrong?"

"I don't know!"

Tolbert sat on the edge of the bed, letting Bud nuzzle his shoulder and cry. He pulled his fingers through Bud's thick locks of brunette hair, trying to comfort the boy.

"Ya like it?"

"Mhm." He sniffled, wrapping his arms around Tolbert. He didn't know _why _he was crying. All he knew was that one second he was fine, the next he wasn't.

"You're okay," Tolbert assured him, massaging the back of Bud's head.

"I don't — I don't know why I'm cr-cryin'," Bud mumbled, his breath hitching. "I-I—I'm s-orry."

"Don't apologize. Maybe it's where ya just woke up. It's okay t' cry, Buddy."

"P—oppy says it ain't."

"Yeah, well, me n Poppy are different. He thinks it's okay t' beat a child s' long as he hates him n thinks up a reason for it. I don't. I'm hot-headed, but I don't think I could ever beat a child. 'Specially not when he's just showin' how he feels."

"I love ya, Tol. Love ya so much I wouldn't know what t' do without ya."

"I love ya too, Buddy. I love ya a whole lot. Don't think my life would be very interestin' if you wasn't in it."

Bud laughed a little, sitting up and wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. He carefully folded the handkerchief, setting it on the table beside his bed beside his knife.

"Reckon I should get up. 'M already so far b'hind in what I need t' do," Bud mumbled.

"Then get up. No one's stoppin' ya," Tolbert shrugged nonchalantly, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Oh, shut up," Bud grumbled, swinging his legs over the other side of the bed. He stood up and sighed, shuffling to his chest and bending down. "Y' know, it's awful cold. I really don't like this time of year. Too much snow that makes ya all wet n it just makes the cold worse. The wind blows n it feels like it's cuttin' yer skin an' it jus' ain't right."

"You complain an awful lot when ya first get up," Tolbert drawled, watching him with amusement.

Bud grunted and pulled a shirt on, and debated on pulling on his other shirt as well, but decided against it. He tucked his shirt in and slid his suspenders onto his shoulders, grabbing his coat and his boots.

"Think I can get all m' chores done b'fore dark?"

"Ya can if ya quit talkin'."

"Oh, you're _so _funny."

* * *

**_March 1879_**

Bud gulped and took a step back, flinching away from Tolbert. He hadn't meant to make him mad, honestly he hadn't, but he'd tripped over his pant leg and knocked into an open barrel that was filled to the brim with moonshine. Moonshine that had been intended to be sold. Tolbert didn't even have enough to fill one bottle now, because it had all spilled on the ground.

So really, Tolbert had every right to be as mad as he was. But that didn't mean that Bud wasn't frightened. His heart thundered against his chest, his palms sweaty and a sinking feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He'd learned how to keep his face neutral, to keep the fact that he was scared out of his wits secret.

"Bud, that's how we're livin' right now! Don't ya understand that?! The only way we're makin' any money right now is t' sell the 'shine!" Tolbert shouted.

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Bud exclaimed, taking another step back. "I — I didn't see it!"

"Ya didn't see it?" Tolbert repeated lowly. "How could ya _not?! _It was right in front of you!"

"I'm sorry!" Bud's back hit the wall. "I promise, I'll make another batch."

"Do ya know how much we lost with that one barrel, Bud? I was s'pposed t' make deliveries t'night!"

"_I'm sorry!_ I'll — I'll start on it now, I swear!"

Tolbert sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Did ya not hear me when I told you t' be careful? I thought I said it loud enough that you would hear it."

Bud shook his head. He hadn't heard that. Tolbert must've been speaking lower than what he thought he was, or Bud was turned away from him and he just couldn't hear.

"Either way, I figured ya woulda seen it!" Tolbert advanced toward him.

Bud whimpered and hit the floor, curling up into a ball. He'd messed up and he'd made Tolbert mad. He was good at making people mad. When he made people mad, he got hurt. He really didn't want to get hurt again, but Tolbert was furious with him and he was sure he was going to hurt him.

"What're you doin'?" Tolbert asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"I'm sorry, I'm _so sorry! _Please don't hurt me," Bud pleaded, his arms folded over his head, his knees touching his chest.

"Ya think I'm gonna — oh, no, Bud, no." Tolbert rushed over, dropping to his knees. Bud took a sharp breath, almost like he expected Tolbert to hit him. "Hey, look at me."

Bud slowly — no, _cautiously _lifted his head, his arms folding tightly on his chest. "I'm real sorry."

"No, no, no, it's okay. I'm sorry, Buddy, I'm so sorry. Why — why on earth would ya think I wanna hurt ya?"

"You're mad at me," he said it as though it was obvious. "Poppy always hurt me when he got mad at me."

Tolbert's heart broke for the boy. He hadn't meant to scare him. He just thought he'd been careless and hadn't listened to a word he said.

"That's no reason t' hurt somebody. 'Specially not somebody as good as you."

"I'm real sorry for ev'rythin'," Bud sobbed, his head hanging low. "I couldn't — I didn't hear ya. I swear I'll fix it."

"No, no. It's okay, Bud. Don't worry about it. You — you go on t' bed an' I'll just be a day or two late with it this month. It's not a problem."

"But Tolbert—"

"Trust me, alright? I'll get another one started n ride out t' tell 'em what happened. They'll understand. I've done it b'fore an' never lost one customer."

"I'm sorry," Bud whispered.

"It's okay, Buddy. Ya stop worryin' about it. It'll be okay," Tolbert cooed, wiping the tears off of Bud's face. "Go on t' bed now. It's gettin' late."

"A'ight."

* * *

Bud sat on his bed, his legs pulled up against his chest. The entire situation could have been avoided if he had only _heard _Tolbert. He hated being deaf in one ear. It was his fault that he hadn't heard Tolbert, because he'd lost hearing in his ear when he was young. That was what Tolbert told him anyway. Bud couldn't remember a time when he could hear the way he was supposed to.

He blinked away his tears, wondering if maybe his father had been onto something each time he hit Bud's ear. Maybe if he hit it enough, it would start working again. Maybe, _just maybe, _if he hit it hard enough, he'd be able to hear the way he was supposed to.

Bud knew he was a reasonably strong boy. He'd beat Tolbert in a few playful fights, had even won a few real ones against Calvin and Pharmer. Who was to say he couldn't hit himself hard enough to make his ear work again? It had stopped working while he was sick, was what he was told. Who's to say he couldn't fix it by hitting it? He was tired of not being able to hear correctly.

He slowly brought his hand up, biting on his lip while he tried to decide what he should do. Ran'l had hit it so hard once that it bled and it didn't help it, so why should he believe that he could hit it until it was fixed?

It was his ear. He would know when to stop hitting it. Ran'l hit him when he was angry. Bud wasn't angry. He would know when to stop.

So he hit it. Not quite as hard as he could, but it was still a fairly good slap. He did it again and again, his breathing becoming more irregular the longer he went on and he realized it wasn't helping. _Why wasn't it helping?_

Tears started to race down his face. He just wanted to be normal. He wanted to hear like everyone else. If he could hear like everyone else, he wouldn't cause so much trouble. He continued to smack his ear as hard as he possibly could. He wanted to be _normal._

"Hey, hey, hey! What're ya doin'? _Quit it!_" Tolbert exclaimed, running over and grabbing Bud's wrist, holding it down at his side.

Bud fought against him.

He hit Tolbert with his free hand, trying to get him to let go. Tolbert wasn't bothered by it.

"Let go! Let _go, _Tolbert!" Bud screeched.

"Not 'til you calm down," Tolbert grunted.

Bud slumped in defeat. A heart-wrenching sob tore from his throat, his chin touching his chest.

_It hadn't worked._

"Scoot," Tolbert ordered softly, releasing the boy's wrist. Bud did as he was told, watching Tolbert as he laid down. Bud laid down as well, placing his head on Tolbert's chest. He couldn't hear anything.

He'd rather have his left ear pressed against Tolbert's chest. He liked listening to Tolbert's heartbeat. It assured him that Tolbert was alive and that he was okay. He didn't like not being able to hear it.

Bud wrapped his arms around Tolbert's torso. Tolbert began to play with Bud's hair, earning a quiet hum.

"What'd ya hit yourself like that for?" Tolbert questioned.

"Jus' wanna be normal. Thought maybe Poppy'd been right n that if I hit it hard enough, I'd be able t' hear out of it. But it didn't work," he answered honestly. "If I woulda heard ya, none of this woulda happened. I couldn't hear ya 'cause of my stupid ear that ain't no good."

"Bud, ya lost hearing in that ear when you was three. Ya'd had scarlet fever an' it took me two days t' find Doc. Those two days, ya got a lot worse than ya had been when I left. Ya ended up losin' your hearing in your right ear, but it coulda been so much worse, Bud, so much _worse. _You coulda lost your sight or went completely deaf, or-or I coulda been too late n ya coulda died on me. I'd rather have you here, knockin' over full barrels of moonshine 'cause ya couldn't hear me than have you buried in the ground."

"It's still not right, Tolbert. I've just messed everythin' up again."

"If ya messed somethin' up, I would agree with ya. But I've done that a lot myself. I'll forget it's sittin' there and knock right into it an' dump every bit of it on the ground. I just gotta make another batch of it. They can wait a day or two."

"Why're you always s' nice t' me?"

"'Cause you're my brother?" Tolbert looked down at him.

"Ain't no reason."

"Alright. Because I've always been the one that's there for ya. I took ya in when Poppy didn't want ya. I raised ya. I was the one that taught ya everythin', I was the one that held ya while ya cried an' when ya were sick. I was the one that helped ya get used t' your ear bein' the way it is. I taught you how t' shoot a gun, how t' hunt, fish, swim, whittle, I even taught ya how t' button your shirt.

"Yer fingers used t' slip n you'd get so mad you were red-faced. I taught ya how t' read n write 'cause Poppy wouldn't let me put ya in school. I'm the first one t' stand up t' Poppy or anyone over you. I don't think the older ladies at church really approve of me raisin' you, but ya turned out t' be a good person. I'm right proud of ya, Bud, an' I care 'bout ya a whole lot."

"I care 'bout you too. I always hate it when you n Poppy get in a argument. 'Cause I know he'll wind up hittin' ya n it's my fault. It's my fault 'cause yer fightin' over me."

"The reason we fight ain't got nothin' t' do with it. It ain't your fault when he hits me." Tolbert sighed. "He gets mad at me 'cause I tell him the truth. Mama never woulda wanted him t' treat you the way he did. He shoulda gave ya his love n support. But he didn't. I'm the one that did. I love ya an' try t' support ya as much as I can. Even if your idea seems a little peculiar."

"Quit bein' mean," Bud laughed, lightly smacking Tolbert's chest.

"I ain't bein' mean! I'm bein' truthful," Tolbert countered, earning a peal of laughter. "Honestly, Bud, that one time ya had the mind t' catch a deer was pretty odd."

"I was _six._"

"Still weird," Tolbert shrugged.

"An' you kept tellin' me t' go for it!"

"It was funny watchin' you try t' sneak up on a deer."

"You're so mean. Ya let me do that for almost a year."

"'Cause it was funny," Tolbert snorted. "But anyways, it ain't your fault when Poppy hits me. That's his fault, not yours."

"Okay. Whatever ya say."

* * *

**_July 1880_**

"Tolbert, d'you think I'm odd?"

Tolbert looked up at Bud, blinking in surprise.

"That's a peculiar question. But t' answer it, _no. _I don't think yer odd."

Bud hummed and pulled a weed, looking up at Tolbert, who was trying to fix the fence.

"Need help?"

"Nah. I'll get it in a—_agh!_" The board came off, sending Tolbert to the ground. "I got it."

"I can see that," Bud giggled, pulling another weed.

"Quit laughin' at me."

"Sorry, Tol. It was funny."

"Yeah, _hilarious. _Why're you askin' if you're odd?"

"I dunno. Overheard the church ladies call me odd last Sunday and I've been thinkin' 'bout it. I don't think I'm very odd."

"Ah, ignore them," Tolbert advised. "They don't do nothin' but gossip."

Tolbert tossed the board aside, then dusted himself off. He heard Bud's huff of amusement and could see the boy trying his best not to laugh.

"It's not funny," Tolbert stated, shooting him a glare.

"It kinda is," Bud murmured before bursting into a fight of laughter. Tolbert rolled his eyes.

"Sometimes, you're real lucky I love ya as much as I do."

"Aww, gee, Tol," Bud looked up at him, a wide, teasing smile on his face. "I love ya too."

Tolbert bent down and picked up a nail and his hammer.

"Yeah, well, you keep on laughin' at me, and I won't love ya as much."

Bud rolled with laughter. Tolbert shot him an unamused look. Bud's sides were starting to hurt.

"'M sorry!" Bud gasped, trying to catch his breath. "But we both know yer gonna love me just the same."

"Just once, I would love it if I could actually insult you," Tolbert grumbled.

"Good luck with that."


	6. Storm in the Earth (Modern AU)

**_A/N _**

_This one is kind of short, but I hope you like it! Also, thanks for the reviews! Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

**_March 2016_**

Bud shivered as he approached Roseanna's home. Only he would get out in the middle of a thunderstorm on what had to be the coldest night in March.

He knocked on the door. He turned toward the road, eyes scanning the area he'd come from to ensure no one had followed. He didn't want to be bothered right now.

"Bud? What in the world are you doin' out in this?" Roseanna exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, I just — I just had t' get away an' I didn't know where else t' go. I can — I can go—"

"No! No, get in here b'fore ya catch your death."

Bud entered, stumbling. Roseanna swiftly moved in front of him, catching him as his hands clasped her arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"You're okay. C'mon, I'll getcha some dry clothes n you can change."

"Y-you don't have to."

"It'd make me feel a lot better."

"Okay," he agreed quietly, following her to the guest bedroom.

Roseanna was silent while she searched for a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. She knew that Bud had left them the last time he'd stayed, but she couldn't remember where she put them. After a moment, she found them in the bottom drawer.

"Here. I'll be in the livin' room."

"Thanks."

The door clicked shut.

Bud changed, running his hand through his wet hair before picking up the wet clothes and shuffling to the laundry room. He could leave them there until he decided to go home.

He went into the living room, where Roseanna sat on the couch. She patted the spot next to her and Bud sat down, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. He shouldn't have bothered Roseanna, but he didn't know where else he could go. His only other options were to stay home or try to find another place to hide since Alifair was staying with Ran'l and Sally to help care for Trinnie, who had gotten sick.

If it wasn't for the fact that he'd gotten into it with Tolbert, he could have gone to Tolbert's. But... he doubted Tolbert would let him.

"C'mere, Buddy," Roseanna extended her arm, letting her baby brother curl up against her. He had his head on her shoulder and his arms wrapped around her, his legs bent on the couch. Roseanna threw a blanket over him and wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm sorry for botherin' you. I ain't got nowhere else t' go right now."

"Well, first off, you're not botherin' me," Roseanna told him. "And why ain't ya got nowhere else t' go?"

"Got int' it with Tol. He-he ain't very happy with me right now n neither is Poppy."

"What'd you two get into it over?"

"He wouldn't stop pickin' on me. I told him t' quit 'cause it's been a bad day anyways, and he wouldn't, and I ended up snappin' in the middle of supper. He — he told me that he didn't care if I left n didn't ever speak to him again, Rosie. Poppy got mad at me 'cause I started yellin' but Tolbert did it first. It don't matter what I do, I can't do it right."

"Oh, sure ya can. Ya came here instead of runnin' off t' who knows where. That was the right thing."

"No, Rosie, no. It-it wasn't 'cause now I'm botherin' you n I shoulda jus' handled it on my own—"

"Hey, breathe, Bud. You're okay. I'd rather have you here with me than hear about you gettin' in a wreck on these roads on your four-wheeler without a helmet. That could do some serious damage or kill ya, Bud. I don't wanna lose you."

"I'm sorry," he whimpered.

"And as for Tolbert, well, did ya say anythin' back to him?"

"Jus' told him he didn't have t' worry 'bout me no more. Why does it hurt so much?"

"'Cause ya love him an' you're hurt. He hurt ya with his words, n I know it's wrong t' say somethin' like this, but I hope ya did the same back to him."

"Ain't no sense t' get mad, Rosie. I prob'ly shouldn't've yelled as much as I did."

"I don't care how much ya yelled, he shouldn't've said that t' you," Roseanna stated, playing with his thick locks of hair.

"Maybe not. I don't know. Don't really know anythin' anymore," Bud murmured. "I don't think anyone'll come lookin' for me this time."

"They'll look in the office and at the mill first. Then Tolbert's place. They always come here last."

"I know. By the time they get here I'm usually back home."

"That's why ya come here, isn't it?" Roseanna looked down at him.

"One reason. The other is that ya actually listen t' me. No one else will," Bud responded, swallowing thickly. "I just don't understand what I do wrong."

"It's not your fault if they don't listen. I'll always be here t' listen to ya, darlin'. Heck, I'll even let ya stay here if ya want. I don't care. It sounds like you could use a few days t' yourself."

"Yeah, like I'll ever get that," Bud scoffed. "I've gotta work, Roseanna. Don't get a day off 'til next week."

"You're fourteen. You shouldn't be workin'."

"Well, I am. Can't do nothin' 'bout it neither."

"Ya can't legally work at fourteen. Fifteen? Yeah, sure, they'll let ya start workin' at fifteen. But not fourteen. Odd jobs is what people do at fourteen."

"I don't think Poppy'll like it very much if I tell him that."

"You won't have to. You're stayin' here a few days, takin' time for yourself. Ya need it, Buddy. Tomorrow I'll go tell Mama n I'll get ya some clothes an' whatever else ya want from the house."

"What about school?"

"Maybe it'll catch on fire b'fore ya go back," Roseanna shrugged. Bud snorted. He supposed he could miss a few days...

* * *

Roseanna woke up in her bed, Bud still pressed to her side. She didn't remember falling asleep. The last thing she remembered was her and Bud making fun of some cheesy horror movie that wasn't scary at all. She must have dozed off right after that.

She looked down at Bud, who had his face pressed against her shoulder, his lips slightly parted. He looked so peaceful that it was hard to believe it was the same boy who'd shown up on her doorstep in the middle of a severe thunderstorm the night before.

After he agreed to her idea, the two decided to go to her room to watch movies. Bud hadn't complained; he'd just curled up against her again, just like he used to when he was small. Roseanna could remember how clingy he was as a toddler, and it stuck with him until he was seven. At seven, he stopped curling up with Roseanna to watch movies.

But lately, he was starting to get back in the habit of curling up next to her. Roseanna wasn't sure why, but she certainly wasn't complaining. She had missed holding him close while they talked or watched movies, or even while he slept. There had been the short while after Tolbert moved out that Bud came to her after he had a nightmare, and he'd end up falling asleep in Roseanna's room. She never complained, though.

She observed him, noticing how flushed his face was. She placed the back of her hand against his forehead and retracted it quickly. He was burning up. Bud had beads of sweat lining his hairline and brow, but he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. His hair fell down in front of his eyes, and she brushed it back, tucking it behind his ear. He hummed and scooted closer.

Roseanna didn't mind it. She didn't mind it at all and didn't care to say so. Bud was content and that was all that mattered to her right now.

* * *

By the time Bud woke up, Roseanna was on her phone, texting. She had no qualms with asking Sally to gather up a few things for Bud so he could stay for a while and told her that she'd be there as soon as Bud woke up.

Sally had agreed to it, and had even agreed to allow Bud to skip school and work.

"Mmm... Rosie?" he mumbled groggily.

"Hey, darlin'. Sleep well?" Roseanna smiled down at him.

"Mhm."

"Good. Here, let me up n I'll go make ya somethin' t' eat."

Bud shifted and propped himself up on his elbow, letting Roseanna get up before promptly flopping down on the pillow. Roseanna giggled and scratched his head, the boy humming.

"You feelin' okay?"

"Not really," he mumbled. "Feel like death."

"I'll fix ya some oatmeal then. That shouldn't be too hard on ya."

"Mkay. Rosie?" He lifted his head, his hazel-green eyes meeting her blue ones.

"Yeah, Buddy?"

"Love you."

"Love you too."

* * *

Roseanna sighed as she sent a text to Sally, telling her mother that Bud was sick. The boy had eaten the oatmeal and drank half a glass of milk before bolting to the bathroom.

That had been ten minutes ago, and he'd thrown up three times within those ten minutes. At present, he was slumped against the wall, Roseanna carefully taking the bobby pins out of his hair. It had been the only way to pull his hair back and also the quickest.

"Think ya can move now, Buddy?" Roseanna murmured.

"I don't know, I don't know," he mumbled, laying his head on her shoulder while she brushed his hair back.

"Wanna try it?"

Bud nodded. Roseanna stood up, grabbing his hands and pulling him to his feet. Bud whined, letting Roseanna lead him back to her room. She helped him to bed and started to leave the room when Bud grabbed her hand.

"Please don't leave."

"Alright. But just for a little while."

Bud scooted over, letting Roseanna get on the bed. He curled up against her, his head on her shoulder.

Roseanna wasn't surprised. Bud had always been clingy when he got sick, and he had the tendency to get over emotional and a little grumpy as well. She only hoped he wouldn't get grumpy; Bud was a handful when he was in a bad mood. As long as she let him sleep, she was sure he'd be fine.

"I don't feel s' good, Rosie," he mumbled into her shoulder, his words muffled.

"I know. Why don't ya try t' sleep a bit, hm?"

"Mkay."

* * *

Bud had dozed off about an hour ago. Roseanna hadn't moved out of fear of waking him, and had started to play with his long locks of hair.

"Roseanna?"

Tolbert rounded the corner, stopping dead in his tracks when he spotted her.

"He still sleepin'?" Tolbert pointed to him, setting the tote bag down.

"Sure, ya can say that."

"If that's not what it is, just say so."

"He's a little sick. Pretty sure he can sleep it off like he usually does. That boy's got the strongest immune system I've ever seen," Roseanna remarked.

"How long's he been here?" Tolbert asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Since last night," she replied. "Showed up lookin' like a drowned rat."

Tolbert hummed and nodded slightly.

"He told me about the fight. I never took you as the type t' say somethin' like that t' him."

He stayed silent. He knew how to pick and choose his battles most of the time, and he knew not to pick one with Roseanna.

"Ya told him that ya didn't care if he left n never spoke to ya again, Tolbert. Why in the world would you do that t' him?"

"I don't know."

"You don't — oh my gosh, Tolbert," Roseanna huffed irritably. "You don't say that to a _fourteen-year-old boy!_"

Bud stirred and opened his eyes, blinking a few times to clear his hazy vision. He spotted Tolbert by the door, his brows furrowing as he whined quietly, craning his neck to look at Roseanna.

"Go back t' sleep, darlin'. I'm sorry if I woke ya up," Roseanna lowered her voice.

He grunted.

Roseanna lifted her left hand, cupping his cheek and rubbing it gently.

"Wha's he doin' here?" Bud grumbled. He just wanted to be left alone.

"He brought your stuff over," Roseanna responded, her right hand moving to lay on his shoulder. He shifted slightly.

"What stuff?"

"The stuff ya wanted from Mama n Poppy's."

"_Ooohhh._"

"You gonna go back t' sleep?"

"In a minute."

"I can... go..." Tolbert spoke up, starting to move toward the door.

"Here, let me up, Buddy. I gotta go clean the kitchen."

"But you'll be back, right?"

"Yeah," Roseanna nodded. "I'll be right back."

* * *

"I thought you said he was a little sick," Tolbert said as he followed Roseanna into the kitchen.

"He's always like that when he gets sick, Tolbert."

"What's wrong with him?"

Roseanna grabbed a bowl and a glass of milk off the table.

"Just a fever. He ate this mornin' and couldn't keep it down. N so far, that's been it. But I thought ya didn't care."

"I was mad—"

"I don't care!" Roseanna cut him off. "Ya don't say that to a fourteen-year-old _child. _'Specially not one who's looked up t' you his whole life, Tolbert!"

"Yeah, well, I told y'all it was a bad idea t' let him get close t' me," Tolbert countered. "I told ya when it first started that ya shouldn't've let him get so close t' me! But no one listened. _Not a single soul _listened t' me when I _told ya _I'd end up hurtin' him eventually!"

"Oh, don't you blame this on us! You're the one who lost your dagon temper and told him ya didn't care if he left or if he ever spoke to ya again!"

"If he woulda been kept away from me—"

"It wouldn't've made no diff'rence! Bud's a determined kid, you know that. Once he sets his mind on somethin', you can't talk 'im outta it. I never thought ya'd hurt him the way ya did, Tolbert. Whether you was mad or not."

"What's it matter?! I _told you _that it wasn't a good idea t' let him get close ta me!" Tolbert slammed his hand on the table.

"You're fine with him most of the time!" Roseanna argued. "You've gotten mad at him before and ya've never said nothin' like that to him! Believe me, _I know _what ya say to him. Every time y'all get into it, he's here. He comes here and he cools off, then he goes back home. I've never seen him look like he did last night, Tolbert. He was _heartbroken._"

"He shouldn't bother you with our arguments. Good Lord, why's he gotta go bother people when we get into it over somethin'? I swear sometimes he acts like a baby."

A loud crash came from the doorway. Roseanna's head whipped toward it, seeing the broom lying on the floor. Bud was standing in the doorway. _Oh God, _how much of that did he hear?

"What're ya doin' up? You should be in bed," Roseanna chided gently, moving and picking up the broom. She put it back in the closet.

"I... I... Sorry," he whispered.

"Ya want somethin'?" Roseanna asked, moving toward him. He slowly shook his head. "Ya sure?"

Sure, he'd gotten up with the intention of getting something to drink, but he didn't want anything now.

"I'm sure," he muttered. "I'm just... gonna go back t' bed."

"Okay, darlin'."

Bud shuffled back toward Roseanna's room.

Roseanna pursed her lips and turned toward Tolbert, her eyes set in a cold glare.

"Why would ya say somethin' like that?"

"B'cause it's _true, _Roseanna! He shouldn't be botherin' you!"

"He don't bother me!" Roseanna shouted. "I'd rather have him come here t' vent and cool off than have him goin' God knows where an' possibly gettin' himself killed!"

"He could go anywhere he wants without gettin' himself killed!" Tolbert retaliated, raising his voice as well. "He don't have t' bother you!"

"He don't bother me! I love it when he comes over, I enjoy his company! He could _never _bother me."

Tolbert sighed and pulled his fingers through his hair.

"If I don't bother anyone after a fight, he shouldn't either."

"You two are completely different! He copes with it different than you do!"

"_Roseanna, _he shows up when we fight. That's it, ain't it?"

"He shows up more than ya think he does. He's showed up in the middle of the night b'fore 'cause he didn't wanna bother nobody and I told him t' come over. He hadn't slept for a week at that point n we sat n talked an' watched movies until he fell asleep. Ya know that medicine y'all give him t' help him sleep? It don't work for him, but he takes it anyway and acts like it does so y'all don't worry about him. Ya don't know as much as ya think ya do, do ya Tolbert?"

"Well, I didn't know that!" Tolbert barked. "He's been actin' like a _brat _here lately, Roseanna. A selfish, self-centered, spoiled little brat! It's about time someone snaps him out of it."

Roseanna threw her hands up, letting them fall and slap against her thighs. She just couldn't get through to him.

"You have got ta have one of the _thickest _skulls in the world, Tolbert."

"And what's that supposed t' mean?"

"It means you have a thick skull! That no one can get through t' you!"

"Whatever. I did what I came t' do, n I'm leavin'."

"Fine by me!"

Roseanna sighed in frustration as Tolbert stormed out of the kitchen. She flinched when he slammed the door, but she didn't care. He had no right to say any of that to Bud and he certainly didn't have a right to say anything he'd said about him.

She went and locked the door before going to the bedroom, where Bud was laying on his side, his back toward the door. She could easily tell that he was crying, despite how hard he was trying to hide it.

"Bud, darlin'? You alright?"

"'M fine," he fibbed, wiping at his face.

Roseanna walked to the other side of the bed, sliding under the covers and turning to where she faced him.

"C'mere, baby," Roseanna murmured, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Bud buried his face in the crook of her neck, a heart-wrenching sob tearing from his throat.

"Why... am I never — never good enough? I'm _never _good enough for anybody. I don't — I don't care what I-I do, it's never e-enough! I just want someone t' love me."

"You're good enough, Buddy, you are. My God, I love ya so much."

"Ain't no sense for you t' fight with Tolbert over me. I ain't worth it."

"Yes, ya are. You're my baby brother. You are so worth it. Heck, Bud, I'll fight anyone over you."

"But I'm _not, _Rosie. I'm — I'm not worth it. 'M a nobody, ask anybody at school. I ain't nothin' but someone who's hated n picked on all the time. Sometimes I wish I was never born."

"Oh, don't say things like that," Roseanna shook her head. "I don't know what I'd do without ya, Buddy."

"I don't — I don't _matter _as much as ev'ryone else."

"Yes, you do. You matter just as much as they do. I promise ya that ya do. I love ya so much, Buddy."

"I love you too."

* * *

**_April 2016_**

Bud hadn't spoken to Tolbert for two weeks. And it was killing him.

Tolbert was always the one that Bud turned to when he needed help, or he needed to talk to someone, or when he felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. But Bud didn't have that anymore. He'd attempted to speak to Tolbert once, and Tolbert had bit his head off. Bud couldn't remember what he'd asked Tolbert, but he knew that it shouldn't have provoked such a reaction.

So Bud tried to handle everything on his own. He didn't want to bother Roseanna or anyone else, he didn't want to risk making whatever was going on with him and Tolbert worse, and he didn't want to fight anymore. Bud had lost the will to fight. He supposed that happened after being shoved into a locker a few times each week, and it was becoming more and more often.

Maybe that was why he hated small spaces.

Bud didn't even try to fight when William grabbed him by his collar and ripped his shirt. He hurled Bud to the floor, Bud hissing when his head bounced off the tile. That hadn't felt good.

He didn't know why he was getting beat up this time. He never knew the reason why, but he always took it. He kept his mouth shut and never complained, listening to them as they told him he was worthless and unloved — things he already knew.

"I hear Tolbert still ain't talkin' t' you. What'd ya do to 'im?" William laughed. "Or did he realize that you're not worth his time?"

Bud was pretty sure it was a bit of both. Tolbert wouldn't hate him nearly as much if he hadn't lashed out at him during supper. Bud had brought it all on himself, he knew that. Tolbert could only take so much before he started to hate Bud the way everyone else did.

And now he tried to stay away from Roseanna as much as possible. He didn't want her to hate him too, and the best way to prevent it was to stay away.

"Matter of fact, McCoy, I don't think anyone in your family loves you!"

Bud had no doubt that it was true. He didn't see why they would; all he ever did was cause trouble. Lately, he'd found himself wishing that he'd never been born. If he hadn't been born, Roseanna and Tolbert wouldn't be fighting every time they saw each other. If he hadn't been born, life would have been easier for Ran'l and Sally. It would be one less mouth to feed, one less person to clothe, one less problem to worry about.

He had his doubts that Ran'l and Sally even wanted him. He couldn't think of a reason why they would want him, he'd never done anything to make them want him. He had to be the child that they regretted. Why wouldn't they regret the one who couldn't do anything right?

Bud grunted when he was kicked in the ribs.

"See ya in the office, McCoy."

Bud groaned and picked himself up off of the floor, unlocking his locker and grabbing his sweatshirt. He'd have to go to the locker room to change into his gym shorts too, just so he wouldn't be dress coded.

* * *

Tolbert was _livid. _He had every right to be since he'd gotten a call saying that Bud had started a fight and that he needed to come to the school.

So Tolbert went, and he listened to what the principal had to say — and learned Bud had earned himself _fifteen days _of out of school suspension — before smacking the boy's shoulder so they could leave.

Bud picked up his backpack and followed Tolbert out of the office. He was scared out of his wits. He had always been able to tell when Tolbert was going to lose his temper and he wasn't looking forward to being yelled at again. Tolbert was so angry that Bud feared he might actually hit him.

Bud managed to somehow pass Tolbert, opening the front door. He let out a shaky exhale the moment he was outside. It was chilly for an April day, and the cold rain didn't make it any better.

Tolbert still hadn't said anything. Bud was becoming more and more frightened by the second, but somehow managed to keep his face expressionless. He supposed the pain helped with that, as did the adrenaline that lessened the pain. Or maybe it was the fact that his left eye had been hit so hard that it was swollen shut.

He got in the truck, gasping and wincing as he did so. Sometimes he really didn't like William. Most of the time, he could tolerate him. A few hurtful words and insults and he'd be on his way. But on the days William felt the need to beat him up, Bud really disliked him. He especially disliked him now.

Usually, after a good beating, Bud would clean himself up in the bathroom and go on about his day. But William and his friends had lied and said that Bud started a fight. William got to come back to school tomorrow; Bud had to stay out for fifteen days. Not that he was complaining. That gave him time to heal up.

Tolbert got in and started the engine before putting on his seatbelt. He glanced at Bud, and Bud was sure that was when Tolbert would explode, but he didn't say anything. He only sighed deeply and shook his head.

Bud shifted uncomfortably. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Tolbert had taken Bud to his house. Bud followed him inside, not wanting to risk making what was surely going to be an explosion to remember any worse.

"Go put your bag in your room."

He sounded calm. _Too _calm.

Bud did as he was told and went to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and turning on the sink. He could clean himself up; he always did and he could usually do it without hurting himself too badly.

He took off his sweatshirt, wincing and letting out a pained noise. Maybe he'd been kicked a little harder than he thought. But it didn't matter. He dropped it on the floor beside him and grabbed the washcloth again, wringing the water out of it before gently dabbing at his lip.

He was fine. This was the worst beating he'd ever received, but he was sure at some point, it would be worse than what it was now. He just hoped it wouldn't end the way this one had.

After cleaning himself up, Bud bent down and picked up his shirt before shuffling to the kitchen. He had no doubt that he was in trouble and he really didn't want to face it just yet, but he was going to anyway. It was best to get it over with.

Tolbert leaned against the kitchen island, his arms folded over his chest. He didn't look happy in the least; his eyes set ablaze with a burning fury, his lips set in a thin line.

"Wanna tell me why you're startin' fights, Randolph?"

Bud flinched at the name. It wasn't used unless they were extremely mad at him.

"I didn't," he said quietly.

"Ya didn't? Well, my gosh, Bud, I coulda _sworn _that's what your principal said. And he said that the boy ya fought with has witnesses! Why'd ya start it?" Tolbert raised his voice.

"I didn't, I swear!" Bud exclaimed, his voice going shrill. He jumped when his back hit the counter. "William lied, Tolbert!"

Tolbert sighed exasperatedly.

"Of course, Bud, it's always everyone else! Like this thing b'tween me n you right now is 'cause of me, right? Why can't ya do somethin' right for a change and admit when you're in the wrong?!"

"If I did, I would!" Bud shouted. "I didn't _touch him! _He's not the one gettin' shoved into a locker every other day, he ain't the one that's takin' insults and bein' told that he's worthless and no one loves him, and — and that he should just go off somewhere and kill himself. _I am! _I'm the one takin' it all and I don't know how much longer I _can!_"

"You're... what?" Tolbert asked softly, a dumbstruck expression on his face.

"I'm tryin' t' stay away from everyone so they don't end up hatin' me like most people already do, and I just — I just want someone t' care. I don't think Mama n Poppy even want me anymore after what I did to you, and I just can't take much more, Tolbert. _I can't. _One of these days it's all gonna be too much n I'm gonna end up takin' his advice. I'll go off somewhere n just end it all and I won't care, and neither will anyone else. I'm a worthless human bein' that shoulda never been born."

"Bud... oh my God," Tolbert breathed.

Bud slowly shook his head, trying to force his tears back.

"No one _cares _about me. And if they do, if they're around me enough, they'll stop. They always do. No one — no one knows what I go through _every single day _of my miserable life. I... I try t' be a good person, I really do, but what's the point in tryin' when you just ain't no good?"

"Ya quit that!" Tolbert exclaimed, startling Bud. "Ya don't — oh God, why didn't ya say somethin'?"

"What's there t' say, Tolbert? That I'm worthless? Unloved. That no one would care if I disappeared off the face of the earth? Should I tell ya t' stop actin' like ya care, Tolbert? Is that what you want?! You want me t' tell you t' _stop?! _Well, stop! Stop it! Just — just leave me alone and give me a few days and I _swear _I'll be outta your hair."

"What? No, stop, Bud. Why didn't ya tell me?" Tolbert moved forward, grabbing Bud's biceps.

"I can handle it on my own. I don't need no help."

"Bud, you're havin' a breakdown in the middle of my kitchen. I don't think ya can handle it on your own anymore."

"I'm sorry, I swear I'll be gone in a few days—"

"What d'ya mean by that, kiddo?"

"I mean I'll be _gone, _Tolbert! Ya won't — ya won't have t' worry 'bout me again. I'm not gonna be able t' take whatever they're gonna do to me at home, and it's not like anyone's gonna miss me anyways." He paused and licked his lips, looking at Tolbert and quietly muttering, "I don't want to live anymore."

Tolbert pulled him into a tight hug.

"No, Bud, _no. _Ya don't — oh my God, ya don't know how much I love ya. I'm so sorry."

The dam broke.

Bud threw his arms around Tolbert and sobbed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I swear I won't. I'm so, so sorry," he spluttered, clinging to Tolbert.

"Hey, hey, shh... it's okay. It's okay."

"I—I shouldn't-a snapped at ya n I shouldn't've made it worse by yellin'. I'm _so sorry._"

"Hey, no, that was my fault, ya hear me? That was on me. Not you. I'm so sorry I said all that to ya. You're fourteen. I shouldn't be tellin' you things like that. Shouldn't tell ya things like that no matter how old ya are 'cause they ain't true."

"I don't wanna live, Tol," he cried into Tolbert's shoulder. "It jus' keeps gettin' worse an' it ain't gonna get no better, so why stay here? I don't wanna live no more."

"Don't — don't say that. I can't lose you, Bud."

"Why not? I'm nothin' but a mess, Tolbert. I'm pretty sure I'm the only child Mama n Poppy regret an' they didn't want me anymore either. Nobody does. I've tried _so hard _t' make them proud of me, but I'm failin' every class and I just got suspended for fifteen days. They — they'd be better off without me. All of you would. I'm just in everyone's way."

"No, you're not. You're not in anyone's way. Mama n Poppy don't regret you, an' they want you, Bud. Ya make us proud, Bud, ya do. Ya got the biggest heart in the Tug River Valley. We need ya more than ya think we do."

"No, ya don't," Bud shook his head. "No one needs me. No one _wants_ me, no one _needs_ me, and no one _loves_ me. An' I feel _so bad _for feelin' the way that I do. Y'all have always tried t' tell me that I'll always be wanted n loved no matter what, but — it just ain't true anymore. I've messed everythin' up so bad this time that there's no way I can possibly fix it. I don't — life just isn't for me."

"Yes, it is. Yes, we do. We _want _ya, we _need _ya, and we _love _ya. Never apologize for your feelin's. You can't help the way you feel. Just... just talk t' me, or heck, talk t' Roseanna. I thought she was gonna kill me the day after that argument happened. And I woulda deserved it. But Bud, ya haven't messed anythin' up. I promise you, ya haven't done a thing to mess anything up."

Bud sniffled.

"You're gonna stay with me. Just 'til you go back t' school, then you can choose t' stay or go back home. Take a few days t' rest up, then we're gonna work through this, okay? I'll help ya with anything you need help with."

"Okay," Bud agreed softly. "Tolbert..."

"Yeah?"

"Hate t' be a bother, but ya wouldn't happen t' have any ice, would ya?"

"Yeah, why?"

"My eye hurts."

"_Oh. _I'm an idiot sometimes."

Bud giggled quietly. "Aren't we all?"

"Yeah, that's fair. Go sit down or somethin'. I'll get ya some ice and ibuprofen."

* * *

**_November 2016_**

Bud had been diagnosed with depression shortly after his conversation with Tolbert. He hadn't been very happy about it and hated that he had to take pills, but he did it anyway.

He found that he'd been a little happier since he'd gotten used to them. For the first few months, from May to July, he'd struggled with his thoughts, and often scared himself, but he had Tolbert in his corner again. He was _fine._

On a brisk autumn day, Bud decided to go out for a while. He had nothing to do, and he'd rather spend his day out in the woods than cooped up in the house, so he asked Tolbert and asked him if he wanted to go riding. Tolbert agreed and they decided to meet at Tolbert's house.

Bud grabbed his helmet, gloves, and jacket. He pulled on the jacket and gloves, shoving his phone in his pocket before zipping it. He was sure he'd be fine in blue jeans and boots. He snatched the key to his four-wheeler off the dresser and headed downstairs, telling Sally where he was going before walking out the door.

* * *

Tolbert didn't live very far from Ran'l and Sally's. It was _possibly _two miles, and it didn't take long to get there. So when Bud got there, Tolbert wasn't ready. The younger had complained, saying that he'd called Tolbert five minutes ago, and Tolbert had argued that he had been busy then and had expected Sally to interrogate Bud before letting him walk out the door.

Bud couldn't argue with the last point. Sally usually interrogated him when he claimed he was going out, just to make sure he would be safe.

So he sat in Tolbert's driveway while Tolbert hurried to get ready. He came out a moment later and locked the front door, to which Bud thought it would be hilarious to imitate a car horn. He'd gone for one of the shrill ones, letting out a shrill screech that scared Tolbert out of his skin.

Bud burst into laughter, throwing his head back while he laughed. He hadn't seen Tolbert jump that high since the boards at the mill fell and made a loud crash behind him. Bud clutched his chest, taking a deep breath only to start laughing again.

Tolbert was beside him now, and pursed his lips before punching Bud's arm.

"I'm gonna kill you," he laughed. It was hard not to laugh when Bud was laughing as hard as he was.

Bud took off his helmet and set it in front of him, swiftly taking off his goggles and wiping at his eyes while sputtering laughs.

"Oh, that was _great!_"

"You're such a child," Tolbert shook his head, walking over to his own four-wheeler. He put on his goggles and his helmet before getting on it.

Bud put his back on.

"Oh! And just so you know, the second you get off that thing, you are _dead, _Bud McCoy."

* * *

Bud and Tolbert had stopped a pretty good distance up the mountain. They both shut off their four-wheelers, Tolbert getting off of his. Bud just stood up, lifting each leg for a few seconds.

"Ain't you gonna get off?" Tolbert asked.

"Nope," Bud responded quickly. "I'd like t' live, thank you."

Tolbert laughed.

"I won't kill ya up here. Get off that thing."

Bud shook his head. If he knew his brother, he would tell him that just to lure him into his trap. He moved his right leg and his ankle popped. Bud yelped and sat back down, taking off his helmet and scratching his head.

"Dang, kid. That sounded painful," Tolbert grimaced.

"Believe me, it was. Ya ready t' head back now? It'll be gettin' dark soon an' I'd rather not be some animal's dinner."

"A'ight. We'll head back. And the second you get off that thing, ya better start runnin'."

"Noted."

* * *

Once at Ran'l and Sally's, Bud parked his four-wheeler and shut it off. He swung his leg over it and huffed the second he was standing, taking off toward the house. He really didn't have the time to let Tolbert catch up to him.

He raced up the stairs and to his room, closing the door and standing against it. He took off his helmet and leaned toward the dresser, setting the key and his helmet on it. He quickly took off his goggles and did the same.

"_BUD!_"

He pushed the door shut, despite it only opening a little.

"Bud, you let me in!"

"No!"

"_Excuse me?_" Tolbert remarked. "You best open this door or it'll be worse when I get it open!"

An idea popped into Bud's head. It was risky, but if it worked, it would be fantastic. He took a deep, steadying breath and counted to three, pulling the door open and hiding behind it. Tolbert stumbled into the room and Bud ran out, slamming the door behind him.

He ran down the stairs and through the kitchen, wrenching the back door open and running out of it as well.

He made it to the mill before he stopped. His chest heaved and his lungs felt like they were on fire, but he was fine. It was never fun to run in cold weather.

Bud ducked behind a stack of lumber, deciding he could hide there until Tolbert calmed down a bit. He knew that Tolbert wouldn't actually kill him. He had no doubt that Tolbert would just hit him a few times, but Bud had enough bruises as it was.

"Bud! Bud, this ain't funny," Tolbert wheezed.

Bud couldn't help bursting into laughter when he heard Tolbert.

"Ya think it's funny? Bud, I can't _breathe._"

"Join the club, old man!" Bud stood up, a goofy smile on his face. "'S hard runnin' uphill when it's cold like this."

"Yeah, no kiddin'."

Tolbert walked over to him and punched him. Bud grunted.

"I will be gettin' you back for that."

"I'd like t' see you try."

Tolbert slugged him a few more times, Bud laughing.

"Okay, okay! I have enough bruises as it is!"

"Where'd ya get bruises?"

"Ever played dodgeball with people who hate you? It takes the fun out of the game."

Tolbert sighed, slinging an arm around Bud's shoulders.

"You're a mess, kid."

* * *

**_January 2017_**

Bud sat in Tolbert's living room, brows furrowed as he read the math problem again. He was never going to use this in life, why did he have to learn it?

He sat on the floor on the rug, his elbows propped up on the coffee table, one hand lazily twirling a long strand of hair.

Tolbert noticed and snuck up behind him, carefully crouching down. He let out a loud whoop and pinched Bud's sides, the boy screaming and falling back into his arms. Tolbert laughed heartily.

"Oh my God," Bud breathed. "I'm gonna _kill you!_"

"Hey, that's payback. Can't do nothin' over payback."

"I'm just tryin' t' do my homework. Why do ya have t' make it worse?"

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Math."

"Oooh. Yeah, I never was any good at math."

"What good are you?" Bud looked at him. "You're supposed t' be able t' help me with this."

"I'm just here to love you and support you. That's it. And I love ya very much."

Tolbert kissed his forehead.

"_Stop that!_" Bud smacked him, his face scrunched.

Tolbert snorted and got up.

"Aw, gee, Bud! I'm just tryin' t' show ya how much I love ya!"

"You're so weird," Bud mumbled, a scowl on his face.

* * *

Tolbert involuntarily flinched when Bud slammed the door.

"Woah! Bad day?" Tolbert asked.

"Horr'ble day. Honestly don't think it can get any worse."

"What happened?"

"Jus' William bein' William. He's such a jerk!"

"Okay, what'd he do this time?"

"Just sayin' stuff. It's no big deal."

"Ya sure?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "It's mostly me. It's gettin' real bad again and I'm scared I'm gonna do somethin'."

"So... movie night?" Tolbert looked over at him.

Bud chuckled and nodded. That didn't sound so bad.

* * *

Bud had dozed off about thirty minutes into the second movie.

It didn't take Tolbert long to figure out that Bud hadn't been sleeping. After he'd finished eating his pizza, he'd curled up against Tolbert and had stayed in a half-asleep state until he dozed off. His head was on Tolbert's shoulder, his breathing tickling Tolbert's neck. His arms were wrapped around Tolbert's middle.

Tolbert had put a blanket over him, and played with his hair. He would let him sleep for a while before making him move.

He had no doubt that Bud was going through a slump. He wasn't nearly as happy as he usually was, and he always had trouble sleeping when he went through one. Tolbert was surprised that he'd eaten, but that really varied day to day. Some days Bud would eat more than usual, some days he wouldn't eat at all. There really wasn't an in-between unless Bud fell asleep and didn't wake up again after eating.

Tolbert never questioned Bud when he called him in the middle of the night, asking him to come get him. He didn't question him when he would show up at Tolbert's house after a long day, and would just cry for hours on end.

Bud stirred in his sleep, causing Tolbert to look down at him. He didn't understand how anyone could be mean to him. Bud was a good kid with a good heart. Tolbert loved him dearly and didn't want to lose him.

* * *

"Hey there, Sleepin' Beauty," Tolbert grinned as Bud shuffled into the kitchen. "Have a seat. Pancakes will be done in a minute."

Bud made a face.

"I'm not hungry."

"Well... you want me t' save ya some for later?"

"Yeah," Bud nodded. "That sounds good."

"How'd ya sleep?"

"Purdy good. Better than I have all week. Ain't slept good at all n then Thursday I didn't sleep. It's been a rough week."

"Mhm. Have ya ate this week?"

"Couple times. I jus' ain't been hungry."

"And nothin' I really need t' worry about?"

"Nope. All good. Jus' in a slump."

"Mmm. I understand. _Dagon it!_" Tolbert yelped, drawing his hand back.

"Tolbert, common sense tells ya that's gonna be hot," Bud drawled as he sat down. "Why would ya touch the pan anyways?"

"I didn't mean to. I jus' got my hand a little too close," he replied.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Do me a favor, will ya? Get me a piece of ice outta the freezer."

Bud nodded and got up, shuffling to the freezer. He grabbed an ice cube and placed it in Tolbert's burnt hand before shuffling out of the kitchen. Tolbert shook his head while he turned off the stove.

He wasn't sure if Bud was going back to his room or not. There were days that it took Tolbert hours to convince Bud to come out of his room, and it was usually done with bribery. He'd take him to get a milkshake at his favorite restaurant or they'd go do something that Bud wanted to do. If he didn't, Bud would just lay in his bed and stare at the ceiling or the wall, or maybe even the door.

Then there were days that it felt like Bud was a child and needed all of the love and attention he could possibly get. On those days, he clung to Tolbert's side and didn't leave him alone for more than five minutes. Tolbert usually didn't mind it. But he had his bad days — he hated being bipolar and having depression himself — and there had been a few times he'd snapped at Bud.

Bud had never reacted well to it and Tolbert didn't like causing the boy any distress. It just wasn't right.

Bud came back with what looked to be a few ointments and a bandage.

"What are ya doin'?" Tolbert queried, raising his brows.

"C'mere."

Tolbert did as he was told, sitting down and letting Bud grab his burned hand. He took the ice cube out of Tolbert's palm and gently patted the burn dry. He grabbed one of the ointments and applied it, trying to ignore the way Tolbert hissed.

It was a mild burn. He had no doubt it would be gone by next week if Tolbert took care of it, so there really wasn't any reason to worry. Except that Tolbert would have to be the one to take care of it.

He ripped open the package to the bandage, placing the soft cotton pad on Tolbert's palm. Tolbert gave him a skeptical look, but he didn't say anything. Bud taped it and looked up at Tolbert, forcing a small smile.

"Thanks, kid. You're better at that than I thought you'd be."

"Don't mention it. Ya get pretty good at it when you're always bandaging scraped knees and hands and elbows. The girls are really clumsy."

"So... the girls taught you first aid?" Tolbert asked, brows furrowing.

"They forced me to learn it. They're always gettin' hurt."

Tolbert snorted and shook his head. Bud was something else.

* * *

**_July 2017_**

Bud always enjoyed the small party that was held on Independence Day. The entire family came together and usually got along pretty well. (It wasn't a family gathering without at least _one _good fistfight between siblings — those siblings usually being Nancy and Jefferson.)

He especially enjoyed it when he could sneak up on Tolbert.

Sally had seen him, and so had Ran'l, but neither one of them said a word to Tolbert. Bud got close to Tolbert, who was sitting in a lawn chair, and bent down. He let out a shrill screech right next to Tolbert's ear, Tolbert crying out and nearly falling out of his chair.

Bud doubled over with laughter, one hand placed on the back of Tolbert's chair. Sally and Ran'l laughed as well, as did most of the others. A few of them looked extremely confused, but after seeing where Bud was, they figured it out.

Tolbert closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, his hand over his heart.

"Bud."

"Yeah, Tol?"

"I'm gonna kill you."

* * *

The evening always ended with fireworks.

Bud was sunburnt, but he'd had a blast so far. He could deal with a sunburnt face, shoulders, and back if it meant he'd had a good day.

He hadn't anticipated Tolbert getting him back for the scare earlier. Tolbert snuck up behind him, waiting until Ran'l moved to light one of the fireworks before screeching in Bud's ear. Bud jerked and winced.

It was Tolbert's turn to laugh. He plopped down in the chair beside Bud's, snickering. Tolbert was sunburnt as well; most prominently on his nose and shoulders.

"That was hilarious," Tolbert snorted, wiping at his eye.

"You are so dead."


	7. Broken (AU)

_**A/N **_

_**Hi! I just realized that the lines to separate the "scenes" aren't appearing. I'll leave the lines I use on Wattpad to separate it from now on, but I do apologize for the giant blocks of text that probably didn't make any sense with the way it jumped. Hope you enjoy this one-shot! **_

—

**_August 1882_**

Bud's heart stopped when he saw Reverend Garrett at the door. He and Calvin uneasily glanced at each other, each holding the same expression.

Sally — after hearing that he'd come to take her to see Tolbert and Pharmer — told Calvin to ride out to Pikeville to tell their father and Jim what was going on. Calvin did as he was told without much of an argument.

"Mama..."

"Shh... it's alright," Sally smiled sadly, patting Bud's cheek. She knew what he was going to say and she had to keep him from saying it. If the Hatfields heard that Bud claimed he was involved with that fight, he would suffer the same fate as his brothers. She honestly believed that he thought he deserved to, though the McCoys that had witnessed the fight swore to her that Bud didn't do more than throw a few punches.

"Ellison did more damage to Bud than Bud did t' him," she'd been told.

"Mama, I can't—"

"_Bud._" She shot him a look. "You will stay here with your sisters, is that clear?"

"But Mama—"

"Is that clear?"

"Yeah, Mama," Bud nodded slightly, his eyes watering.

"C'mere," Sally motioned for him to come over to her.

Bud did as he was told, approaching his mother.

"Anything you want me t' tell 'em?" she asked quietly, her voice lowered to where only he could hear her. "Keep your voice low."

"I... tell 'em I love 'em n miss 'em. An' I'm sorry," Bud whispered.

"A'ight, baby. I'll be back soon."

"A'ight, Mama."

—

When Sally returned home, Bud was nowhere to be found. Alifair said she hadn't seen him or Fanny for a while, and that she hadn't had the time to go looking for them.

Sally went upstairs, hoping that Bud was in his room. She opened the door, finding Bud and Fanny sleeping on the bed. Fanny was curled up against Bud, her head on his chest with one arm draped over his middle. Bud had one arm wrapped around her, his head turned to the side.

She knew that Bud hadn't slept well — if at all — since Election Day. He spent all of his time worrying over Tolbert and Pharmer, swearing to her and anyone that would listen that he should be where ever they were. And while she did her very best to convince him that throwing a few punches in what should have been a simple fistfight didn't make him guilty of what his brothers did, he wouldn't change his mind.

Bud was closest to Tolbert. She'd heard that while he hadn't been involved with the stabbing or the shooting that had killed Ellison, he had tried to pull Ellison's arm away while he beat on Tolbert's back. That was how he ended up with a busted nose. Ellison's arm came back and his elbow busted Bud's nose.

Sally hadn't been there to witness the fight, but she'd been told in explicit detail what had happened.

She knew that Tolbert had told Bud to make sure the cart got home and that he'd be there soon enough before taking off toward the woods. Bud had tried to follow, but Sam held him back. He'd fought relentlessly, even fought Calvin and Jim when Sheriff Maynard went after them, but they hadn't let him through.

Bud was innocent. There was no reason for him to believe that he wasn't, but he had convinced himself that he was just as guilty as Tolbert and Pharmer.

It wasn't right, but there wasn't anything Sally could do about it. She'd tried to persuade him that he was innocent, that he hadn't done a single thing, but the boy wouldn't have any of it.

Sally decided to let him sleep. She didn't need to wake him for anything yet, and she knew that he needed to sleep. It wouldn't hurt to let him sleep for a while.

—

Bud didn't come downstairs until the next morning.

He was still half-asleep when he finally shuffled into the kitchen, noticing that Ran'l was back from Pikeville. He gave a lazy wave and shuffled to the stove, grabbing the coffee pot. He noticed how Sally moved over to Ran'l and whispered something to him, but he thought nothing of it.

Bud poured himself a cup of coffee and set the coffee pot back on the stove, taking a sip of it as he shuffled toward the table. He sat down in his usual spot, setting the cup down in front of him.

"Sleep okay, Bud?" Ran'l asked.

"Reckon so," he mumbled.

"I've started cuttin' the boards. Don't know how much longer y'all plan on—" Calvin cut himself off after spotting Bud. "—Uh oh."

"What boards?" Bud's brows furrowed.

"I got 'em, Poppy. They were down in the pawpaw patch right off the riverbank. Thought I'd never get that sled down there," Jim huffed as he came inside.

"What're ya doin' at the pawpaw patch? _What's going on?_"

Jim clammed up. Calvin hung his head and Sally avoided his gaze.

"Poppy? What-what're y'all talkin' about? Why won't no one tell me anythin'?" Bud demanded, raising his cup to his lips.

"Ya best set that back down b'fore I tell ya," Ran'l advised.

Bud's brows pinched together, but he did it anyway. He couldn't understand why they were acting so strange. Everything was fine, wasn't it?

"Bud..." Ran'l trailed off, sighing heavily after doing so. He knew how the boy felt guilty and had himself convinced that he should have been with Tolbert and Pharmer. He _really _didn't want to tell him what happened. "Bud, your brothers... they were killed yesterday."

"What? N-no. _No._" Bud got up, rushing outside.

"No, Bud!" Jim shouted.

Bud stopped in his tracks when he saw Tolbert and Pharmer on the sled.

"T-Tolbert?" he whimpered, slowly advancing toward the sled.

_It was a sick joke._

It had to be a sick joke. Bud dropped to his knees, shaking Tolbert's shoulder. Tolbert didn't wake. Thinking that maybe Tolbert was in on it, he placed his ear against Tolbert's chest. _Nothing._

Oh God, there was nothing. Not a single heartbeat.

"Pharmer? No, no, y-ya can't—"

"Bud!"

He was pulled off of the ground, Jim moving in front of him and blocking the sight of his brothers' bodies.

"They — they — that... oh my God," Bud stumbled over his words, vaguely gesturing to Tolbert and Pharmer. "_Oh my God._"

"Hey, hey, breathe. Ya gotta breathe, Bud," Jim spoke softly, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Jim, they're—"

"I know."

"I don't — I don't feel so good."

Bud paled significantly. He swallowed thickly, and Jim led him back inside.

"Uh, Jim..." Calvin murmured.

"Hm?" Jim looked over at Calvin, who was staring at the side of Bud's face. Calvin nodded toward Bud, and Jim glanced at him. "Oh God."

Bud went back to the table and sat down. Tolbert and Pharmer were _dead. _And from the looks of it, it had been a brutal death; as brutal as the Hatfields could possibly make it. He couldn't understand it. He'd been just as guilty in that fight as they were — why did he get to live while they died?

Bud jerked away from Jim when he started to wipe his face with a damp cloth.

"Hey, hold still," Jim instructed, keeping his voice gentle. "Ya got somethin' on your face."

Bud brought his hand up and touched it, moving his hand to where he could see it. He started to tremble when he saw the crimson liquid that had started to trickle down his hand. _Oh God, he had Tolbert's blood on him._

Jim swiftly wiped the rest of the blood off, taking Bud's hand and wiping it off. Jim patted the boy's shoulder sympathetically as he got up, moving to discard the bloodied cloth.

"Bud?" Ran'l reached out and placed a hand on his son's arm.

Bud slowly shook his head. Tolbert was dead. Pharmer was dead. He had Tolbert's blood on him. His brothers shouldn't have died. Bud should have been there with them; he was involved in that fight too. He deserved what they got.

He slowly got up again, going back outside. They had to be lying. Tolbert's arm was lying over his middle; maybe he'd put his head on his arm earlier without realizing it. He knelt down, gently poking Tolbert's arm.

"Quit it," Bud commanded shakily. "Wake up!"

Tolbert didn't move.

"_Stop it!_" Bud shook him, trying to wake him. "Both of you stop it! It ain't funny!"

Nothing. Why weren't they moving?

"_STOP! _It's not funny no more!"

Bud was pulled away from his brothers, his head being guided to Calvin's shoulder.

"Why won't they stop? Cal, _please, _tell 'em t' wake up," Bud pleaded, a few tears streaming down his face.

Calvin slowly rocked back and forth, wiping Bud's face free of tears. Bud wasn't crying much; a tear or two racing down his face before Calvin wiped them away.

"Calvin, make them wake up!"

"I can't," Calvin whispered. "Why don't we get ya inside away from this, hm?"

"N-no!" Bud rejected, shaking his head. "I can't — I can't leave 'em!"

"Yeah, ya can. Ya have to, Buddy."

"_Calvin—_"

"They won't be wakin' up, Bud. Let's get inside."

"Calvin, no."

"Yeah, Buddy. C'mon."

Calvin lifted Bud in his arms and stood up, carrying him inside.

—

Bud hadn't spoken a word in two days.

On the day of the funeral, he stood beside Calvin, who was between him and Ran'l. Bud was in front of what would be Tolbert's grave, and he was doing his best to keep his tears at bay.

His legs were shaking. He listened to Reverend Garrett and then to Jefferson, who was somewhat sober but had his bottle with him.

Bud's legs gave out.

Calvin moved and caught him. He caught Bud around his middle, grunting. Bud's head fell forward and landed on his chest, his hands shakily grasping Calvin's arms as he tried to stand upright again. Calvin looked over at their parents, both of whom were looking at the boy.

"Come on, Bud," Calvin spoke softly, grasping his bicep to lead him away. "Ya've seen enough."

Bud shook his head. He had to stay.

"C'mon. It's okay."

His eyes were glued on the coffin that had been lowered into the ground. He had to stay, he had to stay, _he had to stay. _It wouldn't be right if he left before the funeral was over.

"Bud," Calvin whispered pleadingly. "It's okay."

His eyes shifted to Calvin, and he nodded slightly, letting Calvin lead him away from the cemetery.

—

Bud collapsed the second he got home. Heart-wrenching sobs tore from his throat as Calvin crouched down beside him, rubbing his back comfortingly.

Calvin knew that it would happen eventually. Bud had been so close to Tolbert that the two were practically inseparable, and they'd been torn apart within a matter of minutes. And now Tolbert wouldn't ever return. Bud would have to live the rest of his life without Tolbert, the one person he depended on.

Bud covered his mouth, trying to muffle his sobs. His heart had broken into what felt like a million tiny pieces that couldn't be put back together. He'd lost two brothers, one of them being his favorite brother. He'd been in that fight too, why didn't they let him run with them?

He knelt on the ground outside the McCoy cabin, wailing. Tolbert couldn't be dead, he just _couldn't be. _If they hadn't pulled their knives and if Pharmer hadn't pulled his pistol, it never would have happened.

Bud should have stopped the fight.

Instead, he encouraged it by joining in and had even punched Ellison across his face. Now his brothers were dead, and he was partially to blame for it. The Hatfields held the majority of the blame, but Bud had a small portion of it because _he'd been in it too._

"Bud, you gotta breathe," Calvin spoke up.

Bud drew in a gulp of air, coughing harshly after doing so. He should have been with them.

"C'mon, let's get ya inside," Calvin murmured, hooking his arms under Bud's shoulders and hoisting him up.

Bud went inside and went upstairs, undressing and climbing into bed. The same bed that he'd shared with Tolbert since he was seven. He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. He didn't want to think about it right now. He didn't want to think about all the times he and Tolbert stayed up late talking about the silliest things, the way they'd make each other laugh so hard they'd cry, the way Tolbert constantly told him that no matter what, he would always be there for him.

But he _wasn't._

Tolbert wasn't there for him anymore. Bud should have been angry, but he wasn't sure he could feel anything but despair anymore.

_"Bud."_

Oh God, now he was hearing things. He didn't want to think about him, _he didn't want to. _Bud curled up into a ball, hands tugging at his brunette hair.

_"Hey, Bud. C'mon, ya gotta get up. Poppy's gonna skin both our hides if ya don't."_

It wasn't real. It wasn't real, he knew it wasn't real. Tolbert had said that to him last harvest when they had to start getting up before the sun again. Why was he hearing things that wasn't real?

_"Bud, quit bein' ridiculous and get yer hide outta that bed before I drag you outta it."_

Bud burst into a sob. He couldn't leave. Not now. There was too much pain to even _think_ about trying to do anything.

_"I can do this all day."_

He lifted his head and opened his eyes. There was nothing there. No one was on Tolbert's side of the bed, the bedroom door was still closed, and no one but Bud was in the room. He was going crazy.

_"Hey, it's okay. Don't ever apologize for the way ya feel, Bud. Sometimes life's real crazy an' it throws somethin' ya don't expect at ya an' it _hurts._ It'll hurt a lot. Don't think that jus' 'cause you're a boy that ya can't cry. Heck, I cry more than I care t' admit. It's okay t' feel things. Ya understand me?"_

Why wouldn't it stop? Bud just wanted it to stop. He turned onto his side, facing the wall. His back faced Tolbert's side of the bed and he felt bad for it, but he was desperate to make it _stop._

He began to cry again. What was he going to do without Tolbert?

—

When Ran'l and Sally returned from the funeral with the other children, they noticed that Calvin had set out to do his daily work — which could have been disregarded for a day — and that Bud was nowhere to be found.

Ran'l went up to Bud's room, pushing the door open. He wished he could say that he was surprised to find him curled up in bed, his face red and splotchy with dried tear tracks, but he wasn't. Bud was exactly where Ran'l expected him to be.

He had the blanket wrapped around him, part of it tucked beneath his chin. His hand was curled in front of his chest, holding it in place. His other arm was stuffed beneath the pillow; his eyes were red and unfocused, staring at the wall. And he didn't move. That was what scared Ran'l. His son was motionless, almost _lifeless._

Ran'l approached and sat on the edge of the bed. Bud didn't acknowledge him.

"Buddy?"

Bud gasped sharply and whipped his head toward Ran'l. His eyes widened and he let out a breath after realizing it was only his father.

"'M sorry. Gimme a minute n I'll be up, I swear," Bud rasped, wiping at his burning eyes. He'd cried so much he didn't think he could anymore.

"Nonono, you don't have t' get up. I was jus' checkin' on ya," Ran'l said swiftly, pulling his fingers through Bud's thick locks of hair. "Ya okay?"

"No."

"I meant... you're not _hurt, _are ya? Yer legs gave out."

"Oh... no, 'm okay."

"Ya sure?"

Bud nodded mutely. He was fine physically. He'd just been overwhelmed and his legs gave out underneath him. Calvin caught him, so no damage was done. There was nothing to worry about.

"A'ight. I'll fetch ya for supper, okay?"

Bud nodded.

—

Bud ate that evening. It was the first time he'd eaten since Election Day, and that wouldn't have been a big deal if it wasn't for the fact that Election Day had occurred on Monday and it was now Friday.

He hadn't said a word, but he was there, and that was enough for Ran'l and Sally. They didn't mind him going back upstairs after dinner.

Bud waited until he was sure everyone had gone to bed to get up again. He threw on a shirt and pulled on his boots, opening the door and slipping out into the hallway. He glanced toward what was now Calvin's room, which also happened to be where Jim was staying at present, and crept toward the staircase.

He went downstairs and walked to the door, opening it before glancing over his shoulder. No lights were burning, but that didn't necessarily mean his parents weren't awake. The door was closed and he didn't hear anyone get up, so he went outside, carefully closing the door behind him.

He set off on his path. The cemetery wasn't too far from where they lived and Bud knew the road to it like the back of his hand. He went up there often to help clear away weeds and overgrowth, and he usually did it with Tolbert and Pharmer. His heart sunk a little when he realized he wouldn't be able to do that anymore.

He was at the cemetery in a matter of minutes. He found his way to Pharmer's grave, where he bent down and kissed the tightly packed soil that laid at the end of the stone. He got back up and moved to Tolbert's, stumbling over a loose stone and landing in a heap on the soil. He kissed Tolbert's grave as well.

"I'm sorry, Tolbert," Bud whispered brokenly. "I'm _so sorry. _I wish I was with ya, or-or that you were with me. I tried t' run, I really did, but Sammy held me back. He wouldn't _let go. _I'm — I'm so sorry, 'm jus' as guilty as you n I'm still alive. It ain't right."

His head laid on the soil. Bud tightly wrapped his arms around himself as he burst into tears. Why was he alive when his brothers were dead? He'd fought alongside them, so he deserved the same thing they did. Was it possible to convince anyone of that? Everyone seemed to think that Bud was innocent; that just because he didn't stab or shoot Ellison, he was innocent.

But he wasn't and he didn't know how to make them understand that. Bud didn't think he was innocent; he thought he was guilty. No, he _knew _he was guilty. He was just as guilty as them. He hadn't stopped it, he'd only made it worse. He might've fallen to the ground after having his nose busted, but he didn't miss how Tolbert's knife seemed to go deeper into Ellison's abdomen with more force after he did it.

"I'm so, _so _sorry."

—

Ran'l was up before the sun the next morning, as was Sally. They started to go through the motions, Ran'l going out to do his morning chores while Sally got an early start on breakfast and tending to her own chores.

She greeted each one of her children as they made an appearance throughout the morning, the boys downing a cup of coffee before setting out to help Ran'l while Alifair sipped at a cup of coffee while helping prepare breakfast and tend to the little ones. Sally had noticed that Bud had yet to come downstairs, and thought that maybe, just _maybe, _the boy was finally getting some sleep.

Ran'l, Jim, and Calvin came back in just before breakfast was finished.

"Calvin, be a dear an' go fetch your brother," Sally instructed. She honestly didn't know how the boy could sleep with all the racket.

Calvin nodded and headed upstairs.

"Bud!" he called out as he walked down the hall. "Bud, c'mon, Mama said t' get up."

He pushed the door open, finding an empty room. Calvin took a step back before bolting toward the stairs.

"Mama! Poppy! He ain't in his room," Calvin shouted as he raced down the stairs.

"What?" Ran'l blinked. Bud had to be in his room. He wasn't in the barn, or the hayloft, or hiding out in the fields. There was nowhere else the boy could possibly hide on the McCoy property.

"Bud ain't in his room. I don't — it looks like he ain't been there for a while."

The house fell silent. Ran'l got up, grabbing his coat and his hat.

"You boys comin'?"

—

They had split in three different directions. Jim went toward the pawpaw patch, Calvin went to Aunt Betty's to see if he'd gone there, and Ran'l decided to go to the cemetery first.

Ran'l would never admit it aloud, but he was afraid. Bud felt that he should have been with Tolbert and Pharmer, and if word got out about that, the Hatfields might capture him and do the same thing to him that they did to his brothers.

So he walked to the cemetery. He didn't have time to mess with saddles and bridles, so he would walk. It was quicker that way.

Reaching the cemetery, he spotted a patch of white where Tolbert was buried. Ran'l hurried through the cemetery, finding Bud lying on his right side, sleeping. The boy had dirt covering his right side, and it was all in his hair, so he had no doubt that the tub would be dragged in after he got him home.

"Bud," Ran'l whispered, bending down and shaking his shoulder gently.

Bud jerked awake and gasped sharply, calming down the instant his vision focused enough for him to recognize Ran'l. He let out a relieved breath, his head falling against the soil again.

"What're ya doin' out here?" Ran'l asked softly, moving to where one knee touched the ground.

"Wanted t' talk t' Tol'ert," Bud rasped.

"Ya... oh, Bud," Ran'l breathed, his expression sympathetic. "Here, hang on."

Ran'l stood and moved behind him, bending down and wrapping the boy's left arm around his neck before scooping him up in his arms. Bud whined as he was lifted off of the ground.

"No, Poppy, no! Wanna — wanna stay."

"I know ya do, but trust me... ya need t' go home, Buddy."

Bud shook his head. He wanted to stay with Tolbert.

"Shh, shh... it's okay. You're okay. We'll getcha home and getcha int' a nice, warm bath. How's that sound?"

"I wanna stay with Tol," Bud mumbled, voice thick with emotion. "I don't wanna go home."

"I know, but ya can't jus' run off like that. Ya've got yer Mama n the rest worried 'bout ya."

"'M sorry."

"No, no, don't be. It's okay. We shoulda known you'd go t' Tolbert's—"

"Please don't finish that," Bud interrupted meekly.

"Okay."

They were silent for the rest of the journey.

Sally looked more than relieved when Ran'l entered the house with Bud in his arms. Ran'l sat him down at the head of the table, murmuring to him quietly. Bud nodded and sat down in Ran'l's chair.

"Sally, put some water on the stove. I'm gonna go get the tub."

Sally nodded slightly, her eyes focusing on Bud. She set two pots of water on the stove before walking over to him, bending down in front of him and gently grasping his forearms.

"Hey, baby. Where've ya been?" Sally queried, keeping her voice soft and gentle.

"Went t' see Tol'ert."

"Ya went t' see Tolbert? What'd ya go see 'im for?"

"Had t' 'pologize. Ain't right."

"Oh, no, baby, don't cry," Sally rushed, gently wiping the tears off of his dirt-smudged face. "I didn't mean t' make ya cry."

Bud shook his head slightly.

"'S fine, Mama."

The two looked over at Ran'l as he dragged the tub in. Bud averted his gaze, staring down at his hands.

"Sally, I need t' talk t' you a minute."

Sally stood and walked over to her husband, the two speaking quietly to one another. Sally ushered Alifair and the other children out of the house, claiming that they were going to go find Jim and Calvin before running a few errands.

Ran'l grabbed one of the pots and dumped it in the tub. Bud didn't move. He kept staring at his hands while Ran'l fetched the other pot, dumping it in the tub as well.

"Get in. I'll go getcha some clothes."

Bud nodded and took off his boots. He untucked his shirt and brought his trembling hands up to undo the buttons. His fingers slipped each time he tried to unbutton the top button. Tears of frustration started to slip down his face as he kept trying, determined to get his shirt off.

"Bud? What's wrong?"

"I can't do it! M' hands are shakin' and I _can't, _Poppy."

"Hey, hey, it's a'ight. I gotcha, Bud."

Ran'l set the clean change of clothes down on the table and unbuttoned Bud's shirt.

"There. I'll go find ya a towel, a'ight?"

He nodded mutely, his eyes following Ran'l as he walked to the back door.

"I'm willin' t' bet they're hangin' out t' dry."

—

Bud had gotten in the tub and had (at first) relished the warmth. Then he realized that he shouldn't have deserved it, that the water should be as cold as ice because he helped in what caused his brothers' deaths.

Ran'l came back, carrying a towel. He saw that Bud was still caked with dirt, and sighed as he grabbed a cloth and the bar of soap. He had to at least get Bud out of the tub before Sally returned with the other children.

"Poppy."

"Yeah, Bud?"

"Why didn't Sammy let me go?"

"I dunno. What're ya talkin' 'bout?" Ran'l asked while dipping the cloth in the water. He wrung it out and rubbed the soap against it before setting it down beside him.

"'Lection Day. Sammy grabbed me after Tol told me t' stay where I was n t' make sure his cart got home. He promised me he'd come home, Poppy," Bud's voice cracked in the middle of the last sentence.

"I don't know, son."

Ran'l washed the boy's arms, chest, neck, and shoulders. Bud didn't fight him. It surprised Ran'l that Bud was letting him do it, since the last time Ran'l had been the one to do it, Bud put up a good fight.

He stood, moving and grabbing a cup. He knelt down again and used the cup to rinse the soap off of Bud. He washed the boy's back and rinsed it before gently washing Bud's face. He carefully rinsed it.

"Here, let me wash your hair."

Bud's head hung low. His shoulders shook while he tried to hide that he was crying again. Ran'l paid him no mind. He dumped water over Bud's head, wetting the boy's hair. He did it a few more times before picking up the bar of soap, rubbing it on his hands before setting it down again and rubbing his hands together, creating soap suds.

He gently massaged Bud's head, watching the suds turn a brownish color. Bud lifted his head a little, letting Ran'l scrub at the dirt on his hairline. Bud took in a deep breath and brought his hands up, covering his face with them.

"Keep your hands over your eyes. Don't want soap gettin' in 'em."

Bud nodded slightly to show he'd heard Ran'l. Ran'l rinsed Bud's hair, listening to the quiet sobs that wracked his son's body. Once there wasn't any soap or dirt left in Bud's hair, Ran'l grabbed the soap and the cup, standing and moving to put them in their rightful places.

Bud stayed where he was. He wasn't willing to move just yet.

"I'll go in the bedroom while ya get dressed. Then we'll talk, okay?"

He nodded slightly. He waited until he heard the door shut and got out, quickly drying off and dressing. He pulled on his shirt, managing to button it on his own. His hands weren't shaking nearly as bad as they had been before. He tucked his shirt in and sniffled, wiping at his eyes.

He really shouldn't cry so much. Ran'l would eventually start to think that Bud was too soft; that he was weak and Bud didn't want that. It was bad enough that he'd bathed Bud. Bud was _seventeen. _He shouldn't be relying on his father.

"Poppy?"

Ran'l came out of the room, a brow raised.

"Y' want me t' do Tol's work too?"

"Later. Right now... right now, we need t' talk. Okay?"

"Okay."

—

**_October 1882_**

Bud was still suffering. It hadn't gotten any better — it had gotten worse, in his opinion. He still had days where he would sneak off and go to the cemetery and lie on one of their graves, crying until he fell asleep. But he'd stopped crying a little over a month ago. He couldn't cry anymore.

And every now and then — especially on days like this one — he would go for a walk in the woods.

It was getting close to his birthday, and he wasn't sure how he was going to be able to survive it without Tolbert's stupid remarks. Things like: "Oh God, yer becomin' an old man!" and "Think you'll actually catch up this year? Yer always ten years behind."

They were some of the stupidest things, and they used to annoy Bud to no end, but now he wanted Tolbert back so he could say something stupid like that. He wanted to be able to hear Tolbert's voice again; to hear Tolbert's heartbeat and hug him tightly.

Bud wasn't sure what he could possibly do to lessen the pain.

He'd tried almost everything. He'd tried ignoring how he felt and powering through his work, he'd tried talking to Sally, he'd tried going out to visit their graves more often, and he'd tried to get closer to the family he had left. None of it had worked and it was slowly killing him.

Bud only had one thing that he hadn't tried. It was the one thing Tolbert had forbidden him to do while he was alive. Bud hated the attitude he was developing toward it; Tolbert wasn't alive anymore, so the rule didn't apply. He could down moonshine if he wanted to. No one would stop him because they wouldn't know.

Bud was good at hiding things. As a matter of fact, he hid the fact that he knew how to make moonshine from everyone but Tolbert. Tolbert had been the one to teach him how to make it. He still had the moonshine Tolbert had stored up in the hayloft before Election Day. Maybe he'd try a little bit, just to see if it helped.

So he turned and headed toward the McCoy farm, knowing he could sneak into the barn and up to the hayloft without much trouble. Around this time of the day, his father and brothers were in the fields. Bud was supposed to be tending to the livestock, but he could do it later. He wanted to see if he could make the pain stop for a little while.

Bud slipped into the barn without a problem and went to the hayloft. He settled behind the hay bales, beside a crate of the moonshine. He grabbed a bottle and without much thought, took a swig. His face scrunched and he let out a cough. He hadn't expected it to be so bitter.

Tolbert drank the stuff almost regularly. He had since he was fifteen, and when Bud had pointed that out to Tolbert after being told he couldn't drink it, Tolbert had whacked his head and told him that it didn't matter what he did. Bud had always abided by that rule; the only rule Tolbert ever gave him and now he was breaking it.

Bud took another swig. If it numbed the pain, it would be worth it.

—

Bud felt weird.

The pain hadn't numbed at all. And the more he drank, the worse he felt, but he kept doing it with the hope that it would eventually numb it. He just wanted it to _stop._

He heard someone climb the ladder to the hayloft. Bud was beyond the point of caring, and took another swig of the liquid. He licked his lips and leaned his head back against the wall.

"Bud, I know yer up here," Ran'l spoke up.

_Oh, _it had to be Ran'l, didn't it? He was going to kill Bud for doing what he did. But he didn't care. Maybe that was Bud's problem — he didn't care.

Ran'l appeared in front of him, sighing heavily as he took the bottle out of Bud's hand. It was half-empty, but judging by all of the bottles around him, Bud had been at it for a while. The boy looked miserable.

"Whatcha doin' up here, Bud?" Ran'l asked, being sure to keep his voice gentle. He was always gentle when speaking to Bud, who'd started to stay completely silent unless he was spoken to.

"Drinkin' 'shine," he slurred, blinking slowly. "Thought it was s'pposed t' numb pain. Don't work."

"No, it works jus' fine. You're drunk. It just... it just don't numb that kinda pain, Bud."

"Why?" he asked miserably, tears welling in his eyes.

"I don't know, son. It just don't."

Bud stared at Ran'l for a moment with unfocused eyes. He blinked owlishly, the tears in his eyes escaping onto his face.

"Poppy... I wanna — I jus' wanna be with Tol'ert n Pharmer. I shoulda been with 'em when... when..."

"No, ya shouldn't've. I heard 'bout what happened from several diff'rent people. Ya didn't do nothin' but punch him n try t' get him off your brother."

"No, Poppy," Bud shook his head vigorously. "Tol stabbed him harder 'cause of me. 'Cause Ell'son busted m' nose n I fell. Tol'ert stabbed him harder after he did. 'S my fault too, Poppy."

"No, it's not," Ran'l disagreed. "But we'll talk about that later. Let's getcha inside, hm? Get ya int' bed s' you can sleep it off."

"Okay," he agreed softly, letting Ran'l pull him to his feet. Bud staggered for a moment and Ran'l caught him, the boy making a displeased face before stumbling past Ran'l. "I feel funny."

"That's 'cause you're drunk. Think ya can make it down the ladder?"

"Mhm."

—

Ran'l had managed to get Bud inside. He took the boy upstairs to his room, where Bud looked at Ran'l strangely.

"Here, let's get ya ready fer bed."

Ran'l unbuttoned the top button of Bud's shirt.

"No, Poppy!" Bud exclaimed. "Don't want — don't want ya ta."

"A'ight. Get ready for bed, Bud."

Bud shook his head. He didn't want to. He wanted to go see Tolbert.

"Bud, ya can't go nowheres right now. Yer too drunk, son."

"No, I'm not!"

"Yeah, ya are. Git ready fer bed."

"I don't wanna get ready fer bed, Poppy," Bud grumbled. "I wanna — I wanna go see Tol'ert."

"Ya can't, Bud. Ya can go see Tolbert t'morrow."

Bud broke down and started wailing. Ran'l pulled him into a hug, the boy burying his face in Ran'l's shoulder. He held Bud, letting the boy weep. He knew it was hard for him, that he'd tried to act like he was okay when he really wasn't. Ran'l knew his children and he knew when they were okay and when they weren't.

Bud had managed to convince Jim, Calvin, and Alifair that he was okay, but Sally had voiced her concern about him one night before they went to bed. She knew he wasn't okay and that he was trying to act like he was.

Ran'l slowly lowered down to the floor, Bud going with him. Bud tightly clenched the fabric of Ran'l's shirt in his hands, moving and bending his legs so he was a little more comfortable.

Bud didn't _want _to go to bed. He wanted to go see Tolbert so he could apologize. He'd done the one thing Tolbert asked him not to do, and he felt horrible for doing it. What _ever _made him think that was a good idea?

It was a terrible idea. He felt like he'd done something terrible by disobeying the one rule Tolbert had given him while he was alive. That only made it worse.

"Bud."

He peered up at Ran'l, who cupped his cheek.

"Talk t' me, son. What's wrong?"

A lump formed in Bud's throat. How could he put it all into words? Most of the time Bud didn't even know what was wrong.

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I dunno, Poppy," he admitted quietly. "I jus' miss 'em so much."

"I know, Bud. I know ya do."

"Tol—Tolbert always knew what t' do. What 'm I gonna do without him?"

"Reckon you'll have t' depend on us 'til ya figure that out," Ran'l murmured.

"I — I jus' wan' Tol'ert n Pharmer."

"I know ya do."

Bud closed his eyes while Ran'l wiped his tears away.

"I wanna see 'em, Poppy."

"T'morrow. I promise ya, first thing t'morrow, ya can go see 'em."

"Okay, Poppy," he conceded. "Thought 'shine was s'pposed t' help. Hurts a awful lot."

"I know it does. But like I said b'fore, 'shine ain't gonna help ya with this. Now, would ya like t' git in bed b'fore ya fall asleep?"

"Yeah, Poppy," Bud nodded, voice trembling. "'M sorry."

"Oh, Buddy, don't be sorry. You got nothin' t' 'pologize for."

"Don't think tha's true, Poppy."

"C'mon, up ya get." Ran'l stood and pulled the boy to his feet. He swayed for a second, but he got ready for bed.

He slowly took off his shirt and laid it over the chair in the corner, taking off his undershirt as well. Once he'd finished, he shuffled to the bed and flopped on it. Ran'l snorted quietly, covering the boy with his blanket and brushing his hair out of his face.

"Get some sleep."

—

When Bud awoke the next morning, he had a splitting headache. He groaned and pulled the blanket over his head, shielding his eyes from the light that streamed in through the small window. He shoved his face in the pillow and gagged, moaning miserably. He hated being nauseous.

_What had he done?_

He curled up into a ball under the blanket, whining quietly. He really didn't like feeling this way.

He heard the door open. Bud stayed silent, hoping whoever it was would go away if they thought he was asleep.

"Bud, you 'wake?" Jim asked. His voice was a little too loud in Bud's opinion.

"_Oh, _don't talk s' loud," Bud groaned.

"How ya feelin'?" Jim sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Feel—" Bud cut himself off with a gag. "—sick."

"Thought ya would. I have t' admit I'm impressed."

"With what?"

"Ya drank _seven bottles _of moonshine. That's an impressive number for someone who's never touched the stuff b'fore," Jim drawled.

"Jus' tried t' make it stop," Bud mumbled. "Oh God, I hate light."

"Did ya not know ya'd end up feelin' this way, Bud?"

"No," he huffed.

Jim couldn't help it; he laughed at him. Tolbert had always done his best to shield Bud from the stuff, and he'd thought that maybe the way he'd convinced Bud to stay away from it was by telling him what would happen if he drank it. Clearly, he hadn't and he'd left their baby brother in complete and total misery when he finally decided to try it.

"Quit laughin'! It's makin' it _worse._"

"I'm sorry. I figured Tol told ya how miserable ya'd be if ya ever drank it t' keep ya from drinkin' it."

"No, he didn't," Bud said a little harshly.

"If ya wanna come out from under that blanket, I've got ya some water. It usually helps."

Bud pulled the blanket down, wincing as he forced himself to sit up. He took the glass from Jim's hand, muttering his thanks before taking a sip. Jim gently patted Bud's bare shoulder, forcing a small smile.

"What're ya doin' up here anyways?" Bud queried, raising the glass to his lips again.

"Poppy told me what ya did. I offered t' come up n take care of ya 'til it passes. I always took care of Tolbert when he was this way."

"So... this is just a normal thing?"

"If ya drink enough, yeah. I think ya woulda felt this way if ya drank one bottle, let alone seven."

Bud grunted and rolled his eyes. Nothing he did ever ended well — this was a prime example of that. He'd done it with the intention of numbing the pain for a while, and only gained more pain in return. He didn't really understand how that worked, but he didn't care enough to try to figure it out. His head was still throbbing.

"Tolbert coulda at least told me it ended this way," Bud grumbled before taking another sip of water, trying to get rid of the nauseous feeling. Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed thickly. He _really _didn't want to throw up.

"He was jus' tryin' t' keep ya away from it. He thought it was better that way n he did his best with it."

"I wouldn't-a done it if he told me that I'd end up bein' sick," Bud snapped. Bud shook his head and tried to suppress his tears. "I don't know why Sammy couldn't've minded his own business n let me run with 'em."

"Bud, if you'd-a run with 'em, you'd be dead too."

"I don't care about that! Can't ya see I don't care 'bout that, Jim? I — I was in that fight jus' as much as they were. Why should I get t' live when they're buried six feet under the dagon ground?"

"'Cause ya didn't do nothin' t' deserve that."

"Sure feels like I did," Bud whispered brokenly. "I just... it don't make no sense t' me."

"I know. But you're okay, you're alive. That's what Tolbert wanted."

Bud slowly shook his head. Tolbert should have wanted him dead. He was just as guilty as Tolbert and Pharmer, so why shouldn't Tolbert wish the same punishment on him?

"Ya don't know that," Bud chuckled bitterly. "Two days is a long time t' sit on your own n think. Plenty of time t' wish someone went through the same thing you did."

"Tolbert wouldn't ever wish that on ya. He loved ya too much."

"He—he shoulda let me run with him. I was in it too."

Bud's hands started to tremble. Jim took the glass out of Bud's hand and sat it on the table beside Bud's bed.

"I gotta go t' the cemetery t'day."

"Why?"

"Have ta 'pologize. I did the one thing Tol asked me not t' do. N I really regret it."

"'Cause ya did it or 'cause ya found out ya get sick after ya get drunk?"

"Both."

Jim chuckled and shook his head slightly.

—

On the evening of Bud's eighteenth birthday, he snuck out again.

This time he went in a different direction. He headed toward the pawpaw patch, knowing that his family wouldn't think to look there if they awoke in the middle of the night and found him missing again. The last few times he'd slept on Tolbert or Pharmer's grave, they'd carried him home while he was sleeping.

So he figured he could go to the place where they took their final breaths. It certainly wouldn't hurt to try to sleep there, even though his brothers were a fair distance away. But he knew that they had been there, together, and that should be enough to help him get to sleep.

Bud carefully walked down the steep hillside, moving toward the pawpaw trees. He could hear the river as it flowed, could hear an owl somewhere nearby. He paid it no mind and laid down in front of one of the trees, turning his back toward it and placing his head on his arm.

He didn't know how to explain to his family that he couldn't sleep well in his room. He'd tried to do it, and each time they'd told him that it was just something he was going to have to get used to. "I know it's hard for ya, Bud, but Tolbert ain't comin' back. You're gonna have t' learn t' sleep in that bed by yourself."

And it wasn't the fact that he was by himself. He could sleep in it by himself, it was just that he didn't feel comfortable doing it. It felt so wrong to wake up sprawled in the middle of the bed, taking up both sides. It felt wrong to even think about touching Tolbert's side of the bed.

He knew that his family was getting irritated with him. It had been a little over two months since it happened and he was no different from then; he'd only gotten worse. He could see the frustration in Ran'l's eyes every time Bud wandered off, could hear the heavy sighs from Alifair and Calvin when Bud mumbled that he was going to the cemetery, and he could feel the way Sally almost always caught his shoulder when he went to walk out the door.

They were getting tired of him acting this way, he knew they were, but he couldn't help it. He did what he did so he would feel okay enough to sleep, okay enough to force himself to eat or speak to the family, to feel okay enough to keep going. They just didn't understand why he did it, and that was okay, too. Bud knew it was frustrating.

He was eighteen — he wasn't stupid. He knew when people were irritated with him. The whole family had become irritated with him, even the ones he didn't see very often. Sammy and Paris practically avoided him and Nancy only came around when she had to. Perry Cline often caught sight of the boy while eating supper on Sunday and would shake his head, but he would never say so much as a word.

And he was _trying._

He was trying to get better. He didn't understand why he couldn't. He was having an extremely difficult time coping with everything still, and he was trying to sort it out to figure out what it was that he was doing wrong.

He felt so bad for bothering everyone, but he didn't intentionally do it. Here lately, his actions had been enough to irritate them. All it took was him going to the cemetery, or him staying in bed a little longer than usual in the morning, or not saying anything at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Bud had never meant to bother any of his family members. Heck, Bud was pretty sure even Reverend Garrett was getting tired of seeing him and his forlorn expression at Sunday meeting.

He had tried everything he could think of, but it always seemed to backfire in his face. He would do alright for a day or two and then it would all come crashing down again. He didn't know how to handle it and he didn't have Tolbert there to help him anymore. Tolbert helped him through everything without judgment and always made sure that Bud was okay.

Bud wasn't okay. He was far from it, if he were to be honest, but he always said that he was when he was asked. Bud was okay. He had to be okay. If he wasn't, it meant he was bothering them, and he was trying his very best not to bother anyone anymore. Bud could handle his problems on his own. He didn't need to rely on anyone.

—

Sally awoke around two o'clock in the morning.

She had the feeling that something was wrong; that something just wasn't right. So she got out of bed and lit a lamp, taking it with her as she headed out of the bedroom and toward the staircase.

She ascended the stairs and walked down the hall, pushing open the door to Bud's room. His bed was untouched, the clothes she had sat on the chair earlier gone. Sally backtracked and rushed downstairs, getting dressed as quickly as she could.

"Sally?" Ran'l mumbled groggily. "What're y' doin'?"

"Goin' t' fetch my son. He's run off again."

"Wan' me t' go get 'im?"

"No, Ran'l. I can get him this time."

Ran'l nodded and went back to sleep.

Sally yawned as she walked to the kitchen, lighting a lantern and pulling her shawl tightly around her shoulders. With that, she headed out the door, intending to return a few moments later with her youngest son.

She knew that Bud was having a hard time coping with his grief. She couldn't get him to talk to her, though, so she was at a complete and total loss. She didn't know what she could possibly do to get him to talk to her.

But that didn't matter; right now, what mattered was getting him off of his brother's grave and back home, in bed, where he was supposed to be.

She walked the short distance to the cemetery, being sure to watch her step while she walked. She had memorized the path to Tolbert and Pharmer's graves and had no trouble getting there without looking up. Once she did, her blood ran cold.

_Bud wasn't there._

Sally lifted her skirts and hurried back toward the McCoy cabin. She had to get to Ran'l to tell him that Bud wasn't there; that their youngest son had gone off somewhere in the middle of the night and only God knew where he was.

She hurried into the cabin, going to the room she shared with her husband.

"Ran'l! Ran'l, he ain't out there!" Sally hissed, shaking her husband awake.

"He wha'?" Ran'l murmured, half-asleep.

"He's not out there, Ran'l," she repeated urgently.

"Oh God. Wake Calvin n tell him t' get dressed."

—

Ran'l had been out all night searching for Bud. So far, he'd checked Tolbert's still, the woods around the McCoy property, and the barn and hayloft. He'd just checked the cemetery again, as sometimes Bud would go for a long walk before going to it, and was disappointed when he saw that his son still wasn't there.

So he headed for the pawpaw patch.

He didn't know where else Bud could have possibly gone. It was morning, and he was scared out of his wits. He'd never had this much trouble finding Bud.

Reaching the pawpaw patch a while later, he spotted his son lying in front of the tree Tolbert had been tied to. Ran'l suppressed a grimace before going down into the patch and bending down in front of him, gently shaking the boy's shoulder.

Bud jerked, his eyes shooting open and his hand grasping Ran'l's wrist. It took him a moment to realize it was Ran'l, but once he did, he relaxed and released him from his grasp, letting his head fall back down.

"Nonono, Bud, c'mon. We gotta go home."

"No, Poppy," Bud murmured sleepily. "Wanna stay here. 'M real s'eepy."

"I know. Ya can sleep when we getcha home."

Bud whined as Ran'l carefully pulled him away from the ground, hooking the boy's arm around his neck and scooping him up in his arms. It wasn't what he'd planned to do, but he'd found an easy way to get the boy off of the ground without fighting with him. He'd just have to find another way back up the hillside.

He walked a short distance and spotted an easier way up the hill. He didn't question it and quickly walked up it, carrying his eighteen-year-old son.

"What're ya doin' all the way out here, Bud?"

"Wanted t' sleep."

Ran'l sighed. He wasn't sure how he could get the boy to sleep in his bed, but he was going to have to figure something out. Bud couldn't keep doing this. He was going to end up getting himself hurt eventually if he didn't stop, and Ran'l didn't want the boy to do that.

—

**_January 1883 _**

Bud was sick. He knew that he was, but each time he was asked by either Sally or Ran'l, he said that he was fine and kept going. That was how he ended up being sent to town.

Bud stood in the general store, waiting for the storekeeper to finish collecting the items his mother needed. He was leaning against the counter, not missing the concerned glance that was cut his way.

"Are ya sure you're alright, Bud?"

Bud nodded. Just because he was pale didn't mean anything.

"Woah, McCoy. Ya look like death."

His heart skipped a beat. Surely that wasn't who he thought it was. He turned his head slightly, letting his eyes flick up and see who was standing there.

_Cap Hatfield._

Rage coursed through Bud's veins. He clenched his jaw, staring at him. Why did Cap Hatfield get the right to roam the Tug Valley when he did the very same thing his brothers had done?

"Ya know, them brothers of yours got what they deserved," Cap drawled.

Bud acted irrationally. He pinned Cap against the wall, the young man's eyes widening. Bud was a little stronger than he looked at the moment.

"You killed them."

"Don't ya go sayin' things ya don't know for certain, Bud," Cap chuckled. "Ya can't prove that."

"_Ya killed them. _Ya know ya did, an' I hope you die the same way they did," Bud said in a low, trembling voice.

Cap rolled his eyes with a sigh, shoving Bud away from him. Bud collapsed, hitting the floor and falling unconscious. Cap raised a brow. He'd known that Bud had been letting guilt eat him up alive — everyone in the valley knew that — and that the boy was sick. He'd barely even shoved him.

"What did ya do?" the storekeeper gawked.

"All I did was shove him t' get him away from me. I may hate the McCoys, but I wouldn't fight 'im when he's like this."

The man sighed and rounded the counter, bending down beside the unconscious boy.

"Go tell Doc t' get over here."

—

With the items Sally had sent Bud to town for and an unconscious Bud in tow, Doc Rutherford rode out to the McCoy farm in his wagon. Bud was wrapped up in the thickest blanket Doc could find in his office, the boy's head resting on a small pillow.

He'd given the boy an examination and found that he had pneumonia. If the McCoys could keep him inside and give him the medicine Doc prescribed for him, he was sure Bud would get better.

Pulling up to the McCoy cabin, Doc hopped down and unlatched the back of the wagon. He climbed up, wrestling Bud into his arms and carefully stepping down onto the ground.

"Miss Sally!" Doc shouted as he climbed the steps to the porch.

Sally opened the door, her eyes widening when she saw her son.

"C'mon in," she said quietly, moving out of his way.

"Where ya want him?"

"Jus' put him in there for the time bein'. I'm sure Ran'l will move him to his room once he gets back from Pikeville."

Doc nodded and put him in Ran'l and Sally's room. He laid the boy on the bed, carefully taking the blanket off of him and covering him with the other one. He walked out of the room and out of the cabin, grabbing the wooden crate that held the items Sally had needed.

He brought it in, along with a bottle of medicine.

"Now, Bud's got pneumonia, but I think if he stays in n takes this here medicine, he'll be okay. He got in a little fight with Cap Hatfield at the gen'ral store, an' Cap shoved him t' get Bud away from him. He collapsed n he ain't woke up yet, but I'm guessin' his body's fin'lly makin' him sleep."

"Oh my God," Sally breathed. "Thank ya, Doc. Here, let me—"

"No, no charge this time, Sally."

"Mighty kind of ya, Doc. Thank ya for bringin' him home t' me."

"Think nothin' of it, Miss Sally. I'll be on my way now. If he runs outta that medicine an' ain't no better, send for me."

"I will. Thank ya, Doc."

—

Bud shifted and whined as he woke up. His mother was leaning over him, adjusting a cold cloth on his forehead. He didn't remember coming home; the last thing he remembered was talking to Cap Hatfield and being shoved.

"Here, baby. Ya gotta take this," Sally murmured, giving Bud the medicine. Bud pulled a face and propped himself up on his elbow, knowing that he had no choice but to take it. "Doc says you'll be jus' fine if ya take it n stay inside."

"Doc?" Bud rasped. He didn't remember seeing Doc.

"Mhm. He brought ya home. Said ya jus' collapsed in the store."

"Oh..."

That could be why he didn't remember seeing Doc. He must have shown up after Bud collapsed.

"Said the new storekeeper says ya got in a little disagreement with Cap Hatfield. What'd ya do t' him?"

"Jus' pinned him 'gainst the wall. Told him he killed 'em n I hope he dies the same way they did."

Sally quirked a brow. She didn't think Bud would ever react to someone in such a way, but if she knew the Hatfields, Cap had probably provoked him. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her fingers through Bud's sweaty locks of hair, the boy humming in contentment.

His face pinched a second later and he inhaled sharply.

"M' chest hurts, Mama."

"I know it does, baby. You try t' get some rest, okay?"

Bud nodded slightly. He supposed he could do that.

—

When Ran'l came home that evening, Bud was moved to his room. Bud had had the choice to either stay downstairs or move into his own room, and had decided he wanted to be in his room.

And three days later, Bud really wasn't any better. His fever seemed to have gotten worse and he was a little delirious, but it wasn't anything Sally couldn't handle.

Bud was currently alone in his room, staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. He had one arm draped over his torso, the other lying by his side. He blinked slowly, and his breaths were shallow and slow as well.

_"Bud."_

Bud turned his head toward the voice, seeing Tolbert. He blinked a couple of times, then watched as Tolbert laid down beside him, turning on his side. Bud had to be dreaming.

_"Hey, Buddy. Ya feelin' any better?"_

Bud, despite knowing it was a dream, answered him. "No."

Tolbert hummed in displeasure; just like he would've if he were still alive.

_"Ya scarin' Mama n Poppy?"_

"Reckon so," he responded hoarsely.

_"No wonder. Ya look like death, Bud."_

"Thanks," he remarked sarcastically.

_"Ya've gotta get better, Bud. Ya can't stop fightin'. They need ya, they really do."_

Bud turned onto his side, stuffing one arm under his pillow.

"Tol'ert."

_"Yeah?"_

"Why'd ya leave me?" Bud inquired, voice thick with emotion.

_"Leave you?" _Tolbert's brows furrowed. _"I didn't leave you."_

"Yes, you did! Y-ya stabbed Ell'son n Pharmer helped with that n then he shot him. Y'all ran n two days later ya got killed by Hatfields. Why'd ya leave me?"

_"Reckon it was jus' my time t' go."_

"But I need ya, Tol. I _need you._"

_"C'mere."_

Bud scooted closer, letting himself believe for a moment that Tolbert was really there.

_"I love ya, Buddy. So does Pharmer. We need ya t' get better for Mama n Poppy, 'kay?"_

"'Kay. I love ya too, Tol."

_"I know ya do. Now... now get some sleep, ya hear me? Ya've gotta get better."_

"Okay."

—

Within a week, Bud was back on his feet.

He wasn't permitted to go out of the house, granted, but he at least took a bath and changed his clothes and bedclothes. After that, he was ordered straight back to bed, as Sally didn't want to risk any of the younger children catching pneumonia.

Bud didn't complain, and that evening, Sally brought up some stew.

"Here, baby. Figured ya might actually eat t'night."

"Thanks, Mama." His voice was still hoarse, but he felt relatively fine other than that. It just felt like a normal sickness; not one that could kill him.

"You're welcome, Bud. I'm glad you're gettin' better," she smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Bud forced a small smile.

"I'll be back after supper t' get that. Jus' set it on the table, a'ight?"

"A'ight."

Sally left the room, leaving Bud alone. Bud ate a spoonful of the stew, glancing around the room. He was getting stir crazy and was about to go insane if Sally didn't at least give him _something_ to do. He knew better than to try to sneak out to see Tolbert and Pharmer — he was pretty sure Ran'l would kill him if he did that.

So Bud was left in his room, bored out of his mind. He was eating again, though, so he supposed he could count that as a good thing. He'd seen the worry in Sally's eyes every time he rejected food, and — quite frankly — he was tired of not being able to eat, too.

It was different when he chose not to eat. He'd pick up an apple or something to suffice for a day or two and then he'd eat whatever Sally cooked. He never went over a week with it. He just had days where he wasn't hungry.

The grief really hadn't gotten any better either. He knew that. He knew that Ran'l and Sally wanted him to go back to normal, but he _couldn't. _What Bud perceived as normal couldn't happen again.

Normal was laughing with Tolbert over something stupid one of them had said, or making jokes and insulting each other, or just staying up late and talking about anything and everything.

Normal was playing jokes on Pharmer and watching him turn red in the face after realizing Bud had tricked him yet again, or jesting about smacking Tolbert with some object that would probably hurt if they actually did it, or going to him when he and Tolbert got in a fight.

Bud couldn't be _normal _anymore. He had to be whatever he was now, because he knew that he wouldn't ever be able to feel the way he did before it all happened.

Bud shook his head free of the thoughts. He was overthinking again. He set the empty bowl on the table beside him, laying down and pulling the blanket over his shoulder after turning on his side.

—

**_February 1883_**

Bud yawned as he exited the house.

Sally was finally letting him go out — it had been roughly three weeks since he'd gotten better — and he was ecstatic. So far, he'd done his chores and went to Sunday meeting, and was now on his way to go see Tolbert and Pharmer. It had been a while since he'd seen them, and he needed to.

Bud shoved his hands in his pockets as he drew nearer to their graves. Each time he came out here, he almost always did the same thing.

He stopped at Pharmer's grave first.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Been a while, I know, an' I'm real sorry. Ain't really been able t' come see ya. I miss ya somethin' awful, Pharmer. Ain't much fun without ya."

Bud knelt down, running his hand over the stone.

"You're... you're still one of my favorites. Still love ya, too. I love ya a lot, Pharmer. It's real hard livin' here without ya, but I reckon I'm okay. It's just... it's not the same. Ya was there my whole life n ya got torn away from me n — I really miss you."

Bud pressed his fingers to his lips and placed them against the stone, letting them linger for a few seconds before standing and moving to Tolbert's grave.

"Hey, stranger," Bud tried to force a small laugh. "Had a dream not too long ago that you was in our room. I talked t' ya an' everythin'. _God, _I miss you."

Bud knelt down, his fingertips brushing against the grass.

"I don't really know what t' say, Tol. That dream... reckon it helped me get better 'cause I started fightin'. Y-ya know, you're still my fav'rite. Ya always have been an' ya always will be. I can't even sleep lookin' at your side of the bed 'cause it's just _not right _that you're not there anymore. I miss you. I love ya, Tol, I really do, and I'm _so sorry. _I shoulda stopped that fight. I messed up. I love you, though. Love ya a whole lot."

Bud brought his fingers to his lips again, pressing them against the stone. He let them linger, just as he had when he finished speaking with Pharmer, and stood up. He hated to leave but he had to get home soon. He'd promised Sally that he wouldn't be gone long, and he intended to keep that promise.

—

Bud pushed the door open, shivering as he entered the cabin.

"Ran'l, at some point you've got t' snap him out of it. He'll never get any better if ya don't," Perry stated, leaning forward slightly.

"He's doin' his best with it, Perry. He's _tryin'. _It's harder for him 'cause he was closest t' Tolbert n Pharmer." Ran'l paused for a moment. "I know he's tryin', Perry."

"_Ran'l, _he'll never get better if ya let him keep doin' what he's doin'. He runs off t' God knows where, ya find him sleepin' on their graves or in a pawpaw patch, there's days he don't even leave that bed of his! The boy never looks anythin' but _miserable. _Don't ya think it's about time to put an end to it?"

"Perry, if I could, I would. I wish there was a way t' make it easier for him... Not too long 'go, he saw Cap Hatfield n told him he hopes he dies the same way his brothers did."

"He can't go 'round sayin' things like that. It's a good way t' get himself killed and you know it as well as I do. He's got t' stop actin' this way. He's had plenty of time t' grieve."

Bud's heart plummeted. It wasn't that easy. He couldn't just make it stop like everyone seemed to think he could. And why shouldn't he say what he wanted to Cap? Cap hadn't cared to kill his brothers; Bud didn't care to tell him that he hoped he died the same way they did.

"Bud's my son. One of the best ones. That boy's got a heart s' big that it really shocks ya. He's lettin' guilt eat him alive 'cause he thinks he's guilty in it too. T' him, he should be buried out there with his brothers. You know as well as me that Bud didn't do nothin' but throw some punches. He's handlin' it his own way."

"A way that's goin' t' lead t' more trouble n pain if he ain't careful," Perry quipped. "What's he do out there anyway?"

"He talks to 'em."

"He... _talks to them?_"

"Yes, he talks t' them," Ran'l nodded slowly.

"That's not normal."

"He's grieving."

"He's been grieving since last August. _Early _August."

"He's a child, Perry. He lost two of the people he loved the most. He can't help it."

"You know he can. Make him stop actin' this way. Life would be a lot easier for you if you did. He might be doin' it just to draw attention to himself. It certainly catches many people's attention."

Bud didn't mean to draw attention to himself. He was just hurting and he didn't know how to handle it. Clearly, he was going to have to start finding a way to hide it. (He'd already attempted that once — it didn't end well.)

"Bud don't like attention from people. He avoids it the best he can."

"Well, he's certainly not avoidin' it now!" Perry argued.

Bud felt terrible. His heart seemed to be breaking all over again. He reached for the door, turning and pulling it open. He could find something to do outside... he didn't have to stand there and listen to Perry and Ran'l talk about him.

He snuck out as easily as he'd snuck in, and he went out to the barn. Bud climbed the ladder to the hayloft, sniffing. He was _fine. _He had no legitimate reason to cry.

He shoved one of the hay bales closer to the front of the loft.

Bud was stupid, wasn't he? He thought he could get by with what was normal to him now, but everybody seemed to think that it was all an act for attention. He had no idea why anyone would even conceive the thought that Bud wanted attention. Bud ran away from attention as much as he possibly could.

No one could understand. No one would _ever _understand the way he felt. It was like his whole world had crumbled and now he had to piece it together again, but it wasn't the same. It would _never _be the same.

His brothers weren't there anymore, what was he supposed to do? He relied on them for everything. He had no one to turn to anymore and he had to try to figure it out on his own. No one would understand how Bud felt.

Bud sat down on the edge, letting his legs dangle in the air. He sniffed again and wiped at his face. He shouldn't be crying; he had no reason to be. He had known for a while that the family had thought he'd taken it too far, that they were tired of him acting the way he was, but he hadn't thought they'd think he did it for _attention._

He didn't know why the revelation hurt him so badly. He felt like someone had taken a knife and plunged it into his chest, and was twisting it. Bud was tired of getting hurt. He truly was, but it seemed to be all that happened to him lately. Hurt and more hurt.

"I'm such a moron," he muttered under his breath. "Sittin' in the hayloft cryin' ain't gonna do nobody no good. Jus' gotta think of somethin' useful t' do. Then it'll be okay."

He sat there for a few moments, but nothing came to mind. Bud had done everything he was supposed to that morning, so he didn't really have anything he could do.

He was an idiot. It was plain and simple; Bud was an idiot for thinking he could get by the way he was. He didn't know how else to get by, but he figured he'd have to find another way and fast. If Perry was trying to talk Ran'l into doing something about it, Bud was in for it.

—

Bud had gone back inside the cabin a while after he went to the hayloft.

Perry was still there. Ran'l and Sally looked up at him, worry seeming to melt off of their faces.

"Where in the world have you been?" Sally demanded, walking over to him.

"I-I'm sorry! I've jus' been out in the barn. I didn't wanna come in yet, so I jus' went out there for a while an' — an' I'm real sorry," Bud rambled nervously, refusing to meet her gaze.

Was Sally fed up with him too? Bud didn't know and he didn't _want _to know. He tried to keep his hands from trembling, but to no avail. He just shoved them in his pockets, keeping his head hung low.

"A'ight, it's okay. It's okay, Bud. Ya just scared me."

"'M sorry."

"Don't be. It's okay, I was jus' worried 'bout ya," Sally tried to assure him.

Bud nodded slightly.

"I... I think I'll go on t' bed."

"Alright, baby. Sleep well."

—

Bud was struggling, to say the least.

He was lying in bed on his back, tears rolling down his face while he stared at the ceiling. He hadn't meant any harm. He'd just been cooped up in the house for so long, and after hearing what Perry had to say about him, Bud just wanted to stay outside a little while longer. He hadn't meant to make a mess of things again.

He hadn't meant to make Ran'l and Sally worry. He just wanted to sit outside for a little while.

Bud wiped at his eyes furiously. What right did Perry Cline have to stick his nose in his business? Bud could grieve how ever he wanted to and as long as he wanted to. He didn't need Perry Cline telling his father how Bud should live his life.

Bud's gaze flicked to the door as it opened, revealing his father.

"Can I talk t' ya?"

"Reckon so."

Ran'l closed the door behind him, walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge of it.

"Ya go see your brothers t'day?" Ran'l asked softly, his voice a little raspy.

"Yeah."

"Ya talk to 'em?"

"I always do. Makes it hurt a little less if I say what I wanna say."

Bud's eyes returned to the ceiling, feigning interest in it.

"Bud... ya can't keep this up forever."

"I know," he whispered. "I'm tryin', Poppy, I really am. It's just hard n I don't know how t' handle it. I know y'all are tired of it, believe me, I am too. I don't like feelin' this way."

"Tired of it? Nah. We worry 'bout ya, Bud."

"Don't. It's a waste of time, Poppy," Bud stated rather bluntly.

"It's not a waste of time," Ran'l shook his head.

"Yeah, it is. Y' just don't realize it yet. I'm a mess an' there ain't no sense worryin' 'bout me. I — y' just don't understand, Poppy."

"No, I don't understand what it's like, even though I lost my brother a few years back," Ran'l retaliated, his voice taking on an edge.

Bud fell silent.

"I lost my brother the same way ya lost yours. The Hatfields done it. Do ya think I don't know what that feels like, Bud? I can tell ya right now, I do. S' don't ya start wit' that."

"I'm sorry," he whispered shakily. "Won't bring it up again, I promise."

"Ya've been like this an awfully long time, Bud. What's it gonna take t' bring ya out of this?"

"Gettin' my brothers back."

"That can't happen, Bud," Ran'l ground out.

"Then I don't know. I don't _know, _alright?" Bud snapped. "Don't ya think I've tried ev'rythin', Poppy? _I've tried. _Nothin' works!"

"There's gotta be somethin' ya haven't—"

"Yeah, dyin'. That's the only thing I ain't done."

"Watch your tone, Bud."

"You're only sayin' all this 'cause Perry Cline brought it up. Ya mighta been thinkin' it for a while, but if it wa'n't for Perry stickin' his nose in my business, ya wouldn't-a said a word t' me."

"Bud," Ran'l sighed tiredly, "he didn't mean anythin' by it."

"No? Jus' that I'm doin' it all for attention," Bud seethed, moving to where he could get out of bed. "That I shouldn't talk t' them, that I've been grievin' fer too long n ya need t' put a stop to it. That I shouldn't say what I wanna say, an' that I'm gonna cause more trouble and pain. It won't stop. I can't stop it! Why don't no one understand that?!"

Ran'l didn't say anything.

"I know I run off n sleep on their graves an' in the pawpaw patch. I know it's frustratin', I know it is, but y'all don't understand. Ya never will. My God, Poppy, I never thought you'd be the one t' think that I could grieve too long."

"I didn't say that—"

"You're tryin' not t' say it, Poppy. That's what yer doin'. Yer tryin' t' get around this whole thing without sayin' whatcha really mean. Ya think I've grieved long enough and that it can just _stop, _and I would love it if it could, Poppy. I don't — I don't think anyone hates this more than I do."

"I'm not tryin' t' get around anythin', Bud. If I wanted t' say somethin', I would say it."

"Bull. Ya won't come right out n say that I've been grievin' too long. I'm eighteen, Poppy. I'm not stupid."

"I never said ya were!" Ran'l exclaimed.

"Ev'rybody seems t' think I am," Bud shrugged, turning to where his back faced Ran'l. "Perry Cline thinks I'm gonna cause trouble an' you n Mama think I've been grievin' too long, an' Cal n the rest think the same dagon thing an' I can't make any of ya understand that I can't help it. I've tried, a'ight? _I've tried. _It didn't work."

"Bud, no one thinks that. Ya seem t' have yourself convinced of it, though. I'm startin' t' think that Perry might be right."

Bud whipped around and stared at him for a moment in disbelief. Ran'l thought he was doing it for attention. He thought that Bud was going to cause more trouble and pain, and that he'd been grieving for too long.

"You — Fine. _Fine. _I don't care anymore, Poppy," Bud shook his head, his voice trembling. "Can you please leave me 'lone? I wanna go t' bed."

He waited until Ran'l left to react. Bud turned and punched the wall as hard as he could, splitting his knuckles. He sunk to the floor, turning to where his back faced the wall. Why couldn't he do anything right?

—

"I swear, Sally, we gotta do somethin'."

"You leave him be, Ran'l. He can't help it."

"_Sally, _I think he can if he wants to," Ran'l said softly.

"No, Ran'l," she disagreed, shaking her head. "He don't know how t' handle it. He still thinks he's guilty an' he should be there with 'em. Ya put that with his grief an' it's terrible."

"Maybe."

Sally turned her head toward her husband, who stared idly at the ceiling.

"Ya can't go by Perry Cline's opinion. You're gonna get him t' where he pushes us away n stops talkin' to us."

"I don't think he'd do that. He's gotta talk t' somebody, Sally. He won't quit talkin' to us."

—

Bud didn't know what to do. He didn't want to bother Calvin, but he didn't have anyone else he could talk to other than Alifair, and she was probably already sleeping.

So he went down the hall to Calvin's room, knocking on the door with his knuckle.

Calvin pulled the door open, raising a brow when he saw Bud.

"I'm sorry, I jus' — I really need t' talk t' someone."

Calvin moved out of his way, letting him enter the room. Bud glanced around. He hadn't been in there since the day before Election Day, when he'd been talking with Pharmer.

"Come sit down," Calvin mumbled.

Bud did as he was told, not wanting to risk making another person mad at him. The two brothers sat on the bed, Bud hanging his head and focusing his gaze on his hands, which laid in his lap.

"Poppy's mad at me," Bud murmured. "He—he thinks I've grieved too long n that I'm doin' it for attention."

"A lot of people think that, Bud," Calvin stated in a soft voice.

"I know," Bud's voice dropped to a whisper. "I just — I don't know how to make it stop, Cal."

Calvin, deciding it would be best to voice his opinion rather than lie to the boy, said, "Yes, you do."

Bud looked up at him.

Oh no, not him too. Bud only had Calvin and Alifair to depend on and if this kept up, Bud wouldn't have anyone he could turn to.

"Ya know how, Bud. Ya jus' don't want to."

Bud let out a shaky breath, averting his gaze. Why didn't anyone believe him?

"Why not?" Bud asked. If Calvin was going to say it, Bud might as well find out the reason why he thought it.

"How the heck am I supposed t' know that? I reckon ya like the attention or somethin', I don't know."

Bud scoffed. Why did everyone think he did it for attention? Bud didn't _like _attention. Why did everyone think that he did?

"My God, Calvin, if I knew how t' stop it, I would. I don't like feelin' this way," Bud snapped.

He had a right to be angry. He had the right to be mad at Perry and Ran'l and Calvin.

"No? Ya've kept it up for six dang months, Bud!"

"I'm well aware! Believe me, _I know _how long it's been!"

"There's a diff'rence in grievin' an' draggin' it out as long as ya can. Just stop it, Bud! We're all sick of it!"

"I know! Don't ya think _I know that?! _Y'all've been sick of it since October. I don't like it either, Calvin. I don't like feelin' this way, but there's nothin' I can do about it!"

"You could quit actin' the way ya are," Calvin drawled, shrugging lightly.

"It's not — it don't work like that. If it worked like that, I'd be a lot happier than what I am."

"It's your own fault that ya ain't happy. If ya'd actually listen t' us every once in a while, ya'd know t' quit feelin' guilty! Ya didn't do nothin' in that fight and you're makin' it worse on yourself the longer ya sit n say that ya did!"

"I was guilty in that fight! What about that don't ya understand?! I was just as guilty as they were, and Sammy wouldn't let me go!"

"Maybe he should've."

"Yeah," Bud nodded, his voice dropping in volume. "He should've. I'm — I'm goin' back t' bed. I'm sorry for botherin' you."

—

**_May 1883_**

Bud had been trying to hide his grief. He supposed it was working; he hadn't heard anyone say anything about it. Instead, they'd started talking about something else — Bud only spoke when he was spoken to.

He didn't see why it was a problem. They didn't have to listen to him rattle on and on about how he didn't know how to stop it and how much he missed Tolbert and Pharmer. They'd wanted him to stop, so he did. Bud stopped talking completely.

On May 8, he was at the cemetery, kneeling in front of Pharmer's grave. Pharmer would have been 20 if he were still alive, and Bud had felt that he had to go see him on his birthday.

He looked around him, making sure no one was around before talking to him.

"Happy birthday, Pharmer. I miss you an' I love you. I... I can't stay long, or-or say much, but I really miss ya, Pharmer. Pretty sure the whole fam'ly thinks I'm jus' tryin' t' draw 'tention t' myself n ya know how much I hate it. I don't talk much anymore. Reckon I'm jus' gonna have t' start talkin' t' you n Tolbert more when I can sneak off t' get up here." Bud took a second to compose himself. "I best get goin' b'fore they notice. I love you, Pharmer."

—

"Where've ya been?" Sally queried as Bud entered the cabin.

"Went out t' the cemetery for a minute," Bud mumbled in response.

His mother sighed and dusted her hands on her apron, striding over to him. She pulled the boy into a tight hug. Sally knew her son wasn't alright. She knew that Ran'l and Calvin had done nothing but make it worse. She couldn't even get Bud to talk to her about it anymore. It was always "I'm fine, Mama." Then there were days he said, "Don't ya worry 'bout me, Mama. 'M jus' fine." And some days, it was both.

Bud's arms hung limp at his side, letting his mother hug him. His eyes met Alifair's, and she shot him a sympathetic look. They all knew that Sally hadn't been the same since it happened either; she was just better at hiding it than Bud was.

"You know ya can go out there anytime ya want for as long as ya want."

Bud nodded. He knew that, but he didn't want to get it to where Ran'l would want to talk to him again. He remembered the last one and he wasn't eager to repeat it.

"Go on n do your chores. I love ya, baby."

"I love you too."

—

**_June 1883_**

On June 16, Bud was headed to the cemetery again. And this time, Sally had told him to stay as long as he wanted; he didn't have to sneak off and rush.

Bud reached Tolbert's grave and knelt down, tears welling in his eyes. Tolbert would have been 29 if he were still alive. Bud wanted to believe he could make the remarks he usually did on Tolbert's birthday, but he doubted he could.

"Happy birthday, old man," Bud whispered, his voice breaking. "I miss ya an awful lot. Love ya an awful lot, too. Mama said I can stay as long as I want t'day, so I don't have t' rush like I did with Pharmer."

He laid down, letting his right palm press against the soft soil.

"The last few months have been real hard, Tol. I'm tryin' t' hide how much I'm hurtin', but it ain't a-doin' much good I don't think. I... I keep tryin', though. Keep tryin' t' get better an' try t' make Poppy proud. It just hurts s' much an' it's so hard t' force myself t' get outta bed in the mornin's. I — I keep tellin' myself that ev'rythin's okay, but it's not. I miss you n Pharmer, an' I love ya both s' much that I don't know what t' do without ya."

He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. He wasn't going to cry.

"Why'd ya have t' leave me, Tol? Why'd you n Pharmer leave me here on my own? Ev'ryone thinks I'm tryin' t' draw attention t' myself. Ya know how much I hate attention. I thought if I tried t' hide it, I might be able t' get people t' stop starin' at me every time they see me. But they haven't. God, Tol, I love you so much. Why'd ya leave?"

Bud burst into a sob. So much for not crying. Bud sniffled and kissed the ground.

"I'm sorry that I'm livin' an' you're not. If it makes ya feel any better, I don't want t' be livin'. I wanna be with you n Pharmer. I love ya." He paused for a second. "I'm sorry."

—

Bud awoke with a gasp, coming face to face with his father. Ran'l looked angry.

Oh God, he'd found out.

"What're ya doin' out here? I thought ya was over sleepin' on their graves!"

"I-I didn't mean to! I jus' fell 'sleep, Poppy, I swear! I-I'm only here 'cause it's Tol's birth—"

"Bud, _they can't hear you. _Ya come out here an' talk t' the stones n the ground. That's what ya do. Ya don't talk t' them."

Bud averted his gaze and took a step back. Ran'l didn't understand how it made Bud feel better to get things off of his chest; to act like Tolbert and Pharmer could hear him and that they cared like they used to, and he could just talk to them. No one else cared enough to listen to him while he talked about how he felt. At least Tolbert and Pharmer did.

"Ya won't get no better if ya keep comin' out here, Bud. Ya didn't come out here on Pharmer's birthday—"

"Yes, I did. I snuck off for a few minutes n came out here."

"Ya did _what?!_"

Bud flinched when Ran'l raised his voice. He didn't understand why Ran'l was so mad. He'd done everything he was supposed to; what did it matter if he went to the cemetery?

"That was only after I did—"

"Ya snuck off. Oh my — Bud, what is wrong with you?! Ya've never done that b'fore!"

"—my chores," he finished weakly.

Ran'l sighed frustratedly and stepped forward, grabbing hold of Bud's arm.

"C'mon. We're goin' home."

—

Bud went up to his room after he got home. He slammed the door shut and kicked off his boots, putting them in the corner.

He sat down on the bed and pulled out his knife, deciding he should sharpen it before it got too dull. He needed something to distract himself with.

Ran'l had no right to talk to him the way he did. Bud was grieving, not massacring people. That was what the Hatfields had done to his brothers; they had massacred them. He didn't think it was right that Ran'l didn't want him going out to the cemetery. If anything, that would make it worse. No one seemed to understand how much worse that would make it.

Bud had found a reasonable way to cope; going out one or twice a week to their graves and just talking to them, but Ran'l found it to be ridiculous and a waste of time. Bud couldn't do anything right, apparently. Not even grieve.

The door opened, startling him. His head jerked up and he nicked his wrist, yelping and dropping the knife in his hands.

"Oh my goodness, are ya alright?" Sally asked, hurrying over to him. Bud nodded mutely. He was okay. He had to be. "Here, let me see it."

Bud stretched his hand out, allowing his mother to grasp it and observe his wrist. She took the handkerchief that was lying on the bed and pressed it to it, knowing that it was the one Bud had taken with him when he went to the cemetery. She'd just washed it, so she knew it wasn't dirty.

"Heard ya slam your door. What happened?"

Bud didn't say anything. He didn't want to risk Sally getting angry with him as well, even though she'd encouraged him to go out to the cemetery. She'd told him that she understood and that he could stay out there as long as he wanted to. So that's what he did. He went out there and he accidentally fell asleep.

It wasn't his fault; it was a warm June day and the sun felt so nice on his skin that he'd dozed off after a while. Bud hadn't slept for nearly a week and he'd been _so tired _that he'd fallen asleep without realizing it.

"Your Poppy say somethin' to ya?"

Bud hummed and nodded, his face expressionless while he stared at the sheet.

"What'd he say, baby?"

"Said he thought I was over sleepin' on their graves. That I ain't talkin' t' them — I'm talkin' t' the stone an-an' the grass n that's it. They can't hear me. He said I wa'n't gonna get no better if I keep goin' out there an' that I didn't for Pharmer's birthday. I told him I did n he seemed more worried 'bout me sneakin' off after I got all my chores done t' see my brother than he did the fact I felt the need t' sneak off," Bud answered, sniffling.

Sally sighed heavily.

"On the way back, he said that Perry was right. That I needed t' snap out of it. Mama, I can't," Bud said in a strained whisper. "He don't understand it."

"Yer Poppy thinks of everythin' in one way. That don't mean you have t' be that way. I like t' think you're doin' just fine with it, even if ya won't talk t' me no more about it. You're doin' just fine, and I told ya you could stay out there as long as ya wanted, remember? I'm your mother, I have a say in what ya do and don't do. I gave life t' ya, after all. Yer Poppy wouldn't-a said much if he'd asked me first."

Bud fell silent. Sally was so different from everyone else. She understood him, understood the way he was right now. No one else did.

"I'm real sorry, Mama. I've been mean the last few days," Bud murmured.

"You're goin' through somethin' most people can't imagine. Yer brothers were murdered in retaliation for a murder, an' they happened t' be the ones ya depended on. Ya don't know what t' do an' it's okay if you're a little hateful. You're tryin' t' get used t' this still."

"It's almost been a year, Mama. I should be used to it."

"Cal told me 'bout what happened the last time ya talked to him. Said it was the first time ya'd been in that room since it happened."

Bud nodded in agreement. It had been. It had felt so wrong that Bud was uncomfortable anyway, but he still tried to talk about it with Calvin, who didn't get it either. He thought Bud was doing it for attention. That Bud was just dragging it out as long as he could. And when Bud had made the remark about Sam not letting him go, Calvin had told him that maybe he should've.

And Bud knew that Calvin was mad at him. He didn't know if he'd actually meant it or not, but it didn't make it hurt any less. He had honestly made his remark without thinking, and hadn't really expected Calvin to respond to it. But he did.

"It's hard dealin' with grief at such a young age. 'Specially when it's for people not much older than yourself. And really, I think you're doin' pretty good with it. Ya've scared me outta my wits a few times when ya disappear, but it's okay. We always find ya an' you're always okay."

Bud was fighting to keep from making a sound. He felt like he was going to cry, and he didn't want to do that in front of his mother. He'd done it enough over the last few months, that much was certain.

"Your Poppy'll come around. He always does. Right now, he's got it in his mind that ya can snap outta it if ya want to. Give him a few more days n I'm sure he'll realize ya can't snap out of it."

"'S been a few months already, Mama. Since February right after I got better n ya let me leave the house again," he told her, drawing his wrist back and holding the handkerchief against it.

Sally stood and grabbed the knife off of the bed, setting it on the table. She climbed onto the other side, then extended her arm after settling against the headboard. Bud curled up against her, his head lying on her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around him and brought her other up, cupping his face.

"I love ya, baby. I'll always be here for ya."

"Love ya too, Mama," Bud murmured, his eyes fluttering shut as she gently rubbed his cheek. Sally bent down and pressed a kiss to his temple.

She would talk with Ran'l later and get it sorted out. She didn't want Bud to feel like he was in the wrong for feeling the way he did, and she didn't want him to start sneaking off again. She had managed to get him to where he would tell her when he was going out, and she'd like to keep it that way.

—

At Sunday meeting that week, Bud had been told he could walk around while Sally and Ran'l spoke with the neighbors they hadn't seen since the last week. Bud had nodded and did end up wandering around, kicking at a pebble on the ground.

"Can you believe that Bud McCoy? Why, I heard he told Cap Hatfield he hopes that he dies the same way Tolbert n Pharmer did!"

"It's been ten months and he's still as pitiful as he was the day of the funeral. Only diff'rence now is that he can stand up."

Bud glanced over at the gossiping busybodies of the church and rolled his eyes. They certainly hadn't listened to Reverend Garrett's sermon this morning.

"I can't believe he's so torn up over Tolbert. _Tolbert, _of all people! That boy was shameless in every way, an' he was rude an' hot-headed, too."

"Well, Pharmer had a temper, too. He _was _the one that shot Ellison."

"Bud thinkin' he's guilty 'cause he threw a few punches in that fight. I tell ya, if Bud was my son, he wouldn't be doin' what he's doin'. Sneakin' off t' the cemetery in the middle of the night and sleepin' on their graves. He's got a good home t' sleep in."

"If Bud was my son, he wouldn't-a been close enough t' that fight t' get involved in the first place!"

But that wasn't how it _happened. _Sally and Ran'l had no say in what happened and it all happened so quickly that there wasn't a way to stop it. Bud's cousins had told him to get in there and help his brothers, and he did.

And _God,_ did he regret it.

He should've stopped it. Bud was old enough and strong enough to throw his brothers to the side and stop it. He'd won fights against both of them, even though he'd barely won the one against Tolbert. Tolbert was a lot stronger than he looked, and he always told Bud that he was stronger than he looked. Bud wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not.

"That boy's gonna end up grievin' himself t' death."

"That or he's gonna make the feud worse. I heard him n Ran'l ain't gettin' along too good 'cause he's always goin' t' the cemetery."

"They've even found him down in the pawpaw patch sleepin'! He goes t' the place where his brothers were killed t' sleep. And... really, they did have justice served on 'em. They killed Ellison."

Bud swallowed thickly. Tolbert and Pharmer didn't deserve to die the way they did. That wasn't justice — that was murder. Coldblooded murder.

"He's going to cause more trouble between the Hatfields and McCoys. If he dies, Ran'l will place the blame on the Hatfields 'cause he grieved himself t' death over Tolbert n Pharmer. If he lives, he's gonna stir up more trouble."

Bud gasped and whirled around when someone placed their hand on his shoulder. He sighed when he saw it was Sally, who gave him a small, sad smile. Bud tried to force a smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

"I'm tellin' ya, Bud's gonna end up jus' like his brothers one way or t' other. He'll either lose that temper of his an' start a fight or he'll end up dyin'."

Sally watched her son fight back his tears and shake his head.

He didn't know what he'd done wrong. He was trying to cope with it, trying to find a way to get over his brothers' deaths, but he didn't see how that was possible. They had both meant so much to him and had helped him with everything he went through, and now he didn't have them.

He didn't know how they'd found out about him and Ran'l not getting along, but he was sure that he didn't want anyone knowing about it. Most people got into disagreements with their father over things like moonshine or fighting, but Bud got into disagreements with his father because he went to the cemetery a little more than Ran'l thought he should.

"And from what I've heard, he don't talk much anymore, either. Rude, that's what it is. Just plain rude."

"Sally, what in the world—" Ran'l cut himself off when he saw Bud.

Bud was trembling and he was trying to hold everything in. He wanted to scream and shout and cry; he wanted to let all of it out, but he _couldn't. _It would make the entire family look bad if he did.

"Bud, hey, what's wrong?" he asked softly.

Bud shook his head. He was fine, he had to be fine. He had no other choice but to be fine. He bit down on his lip so hard that it split, drawing blood.

"Bud, ya gotta talk t' me. What's wrong?"

Sally reached out and touched his arm, getting the boy to look at her.

"Why don't we head home, hm? We'll talk 'bout it there."

Bud slowly nodded. That he could agree to.

—

Bud sat out on the porch with Ran'l. He was in the rocking chair beside his father's, rocking back and forth absentmindedly while staring straight ahead. Neither one had dared to speak yet.

"I'm real sorry," Bud apologized, his voice barely there. "I don't mean t' cause s' much trouble."

"What're ya talkin' 'bout, son?" Ran'l turned his head toward him.

"Goin' t' the cemetery s' much, sleepin' on graves an' in the pawpaw patch, arguin' with you, bein' the way I am righ' now, an' talkin' t' them even though I know they can't hear me. I'm real sorry for all of it."

"Bud," Ran'l sighed, pausing for a slight moment and licking his lips. "Ya can't help the way ya are right now. You're tryin', son, I know ya are. Yer Mama talked some sense int' me the other night. I ain't helped ya much at all these last few months and I should. I know what yer goin' through. Only it was my younger brother."

"Did ya feel guilty ov'r his death?" Bud's voice got a little louder, now border lining a murmur, shaking terribly.

"No," Ran'l answered honestly. "I felt r'sponsible t' handle it, though. Soon as I got home, we quit bein' friendly with the Hatfields 'cause Bad Jim's the one that done it to him."

"I feel so guilty, Poppy." Bud's face pinched into a distressed expression. Ran'l could see the guilt on the boy's face. "I was in that fight, too. Tolbert told me t' stay where I was an—an' make sure the cart got home. He promised me he'd come home, Poppy."

Tears started to race down his pale face, his eyes focused on the ground. Ran'l didn't say anything. He knew Bud wasn't done yet.

"I tried t' run, Poppy, I truly did. Sammy grabbed me 'round my middle an' pulled me back. He wouldn't let go. Then — then Sheriff Maynard n his men take off after 'em, an' Jim n Cal come over t' us, an' they wouldn't let me run. They held me back, Poppy. Kept tellin' 'em t' let me go n they wouldn't."

"I'm glad they didn't. Losin' two boys was hard, but I don't think I'd handle losin' three. 'Specially when one was innocent."

"I don't feel innocent."

"'Cause ya've got yerself convinced that you're not. Throwin' a few punches don't make ya guilty, Bud."

"I shoulda stopped it," Bud stated shakily. "I coulda stopped it an' I didn't."

"You did what ya thought was right at that moment. That's all I ever ask of ya, Bud. Do what ya think is right."

Bud looked over at his father, whose eyes shone with understanding. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed, trying to get rid of it. His throat constricted.

"Poppy..."

"Yeah, Bud?"

"I'm sorry I can't be better."

"You're perfect the way ya are. I don't care if I've gotta go drag you home ev'ry night, I love ya just how ya are."

"I don't — I don't think I can ever be the way I was b'fore they died," he confessed, wiping at his eyes. "They just... they were the ones I talked to the most. They were — they were the ones I was closest to."

"I know. I'm real sorry ya had t' lose 'em. I did try t' get 'em back."

"I know ya did, Poppy. Ya rode out t' Devil Anse's place n then ya went t' Pikeville. It just didn't work." Bud's head fell back against the back of the chair, his eyes closed.

"Bud... what was wrong with ya earlier?"

"Jus' overheard the church ladies a-gossipin' 'bout me. They said so many things an' it just bothered me. Reckon I shouldn't let it bother me."

"What'd they say?" Ran'l's brows furrowed.

"Oh God, what didn't they say?" Bud scoffed. "Let's see... I'm pitiful. I've been that way for ten months now n the only difference now is that I can stand. I'm torn up over Tolbert, who was shameless n hot-headed n rude, an' Pharmer was jus' as bad 'cause he had a temper too. I'm either gonna grieve m'self t' death or cause more trouble in the feud. They got ta talkin' 'bout me n you. 'Bout how we ain't been gettin' 'long too good."

"How'd they find that out?"

"Heck if I know, Poppy," Bud shrugged. "Mm... oh! Tol n Pharmer got justice fer what happened with Ellison. 'Cept they didn't. That was coldblooded murder n they didn't mean t' kill Ellison. Then they heard I ain't been talkin' much n said I'm plain rude. I didn't think I was bein' rude. I just — God, Poppy, sometimes it takes all that I have t' force myself t' get outta bed in the mornin'."

Ran'l sighed and stood up, pulling his son out of his chair and into a tight hug. Bud threw his arms around Ran'l, sobbing into his shoulder.

"I'm tryin', Poppy."

"I know ya are. Yer fine jus' the way ya are. Reckon I let what other people thought bother me for a while."

Bud sniffled, burying his face in the crook of Ran'l's neck. He hadn't meant to tell as much as he did, but he felt a little better now that he'd gotten it off of his chest.

"I love ya, Poppy."

"Love ya too, Bud."

—

Ran'l knew that Bud was going to try to sneak out that night. So he outsmarted him. He sat out on the porch and he waited. If he guessed right, Bud would be out of the house before eleven.

He looked up as the door opened, smirking in amusement when he saw that Bud had his back to him. He shouldn't have found it funny, but he was sure Bud's reaction would be humorous once he realized Ran'l was sitting there.

Bud breathed a sigh of relief once he got the door shut, then slowly turned around. He gasped and stumbled back, his back hitting the cabin.

"Oh my God," he breathed. "What're ya doin' out here?"

"Waitin' for you." Ran'l let his eyes scan his son's frame. "Where ya goin'?"

"Nowheres," Bud said quickly. Ran'l raised a brow.

"Uh-huh. You're wearin' your stained clothes, Bud. Where 're ya goin'?"

"The cemetery."

"Mm. You ever been out t' your Uncle Harmon's grave, Bud?"

Bud's brows furrowed for a second, him staring at the ground for a moment or two before he slowly shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Ya want to? We can stop at Tolbert n Pharmer's first if ya want."

"Won't Mama get mad?"

"Your Mama don't know. But I don't think she'll care too much seein' as ya were plannin' on roamin' the hills anyways. We're jus' takin' the horses and headin' t'word Peter Creek t'night."

Bud let out a laugh of disbelief.

"A'ight," he agreed. "I... yeah, let's do that."

—

**_August 1883_**

On August 7, Bud successfully sneaked out of the house again.

He went to the cemetery and lowered himself down on the ground, stretching out and laying down. He turned his head and kissed the ground, closing his eyes for a second. He turned his head again, letting out a shaky exhale.

One year. A year since he'd seen Tolbert and Pharmer alive. A year since Tolbert had told him to stay where he was and promised he'd come home as soon as he could.

_"Bud, listen t' me, okay? Yer gonna stay here. Nonono, listen, I don't got much time. Yer gonna stay here n make sure the cart gets home, a'ight? I'll be home as soon as I can be. Might be late t'night, I dunno, but _Ipromise you, _I'll be home soon."_

Bud whimpered as his throat constricted, his chest heaving with a heartbroken sob a moment later. He clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to muffle the sobs. He didn't want to cry; he hadn't intended to cry when he came out here, but he always seemed to end up doing it.

He laid there and cried. He didn't know what else to do, and he didn't want to attempt to speak yet, so he just stayed silent. It worked a lot better for him that way.

—

He was home the next morning.

He knew by the looks on Ran'l and Sally's faces that they knew he'd snuck out the night before. He didn't say anything, though, and went on with his morning chores like everything was alright. That was about the only way he was going to get through the day.

At breakfast, he was forced to sit down (and had been told to sit in Tolbert's spot, which made him uncomfortable). He picked at his food, trying to tell himself that he had to eat it. If he didn't eat it, that would be wasting good food, and the good Lord above knew that the McCoys couldn't afford to do that. The McCoys were poor and didn't have a lot of money to spare.

"What's wrong wit'cha, Bud?" Calvin asked, breaking the solemn silence.

"Nothin'," he answered hoarsely. "Jus' ain't very hungry."

He hung his head low and closed his eyes for a second. He had to settle his churning stomach before he even thought about attempting to eat. Bud shook his head and grabbed his coffee, taking a sip of it.

—

That evening, he was on Pharmer's grave.

He and Pharmer were a year apart in age, and had been close. They constantly joked about pulling jokes on Tolbert — though they never did — and laughed about the mental images they could conjure up. They were there for each other; Bud would be there for Pharmer and Pharmer was there for Bud.

Pharmer hadn't had the chance to speak to Bud before he took off. The last time Bud had spoken with Pharmer, it was a few moments before the fight took place.

_"Heck, Bud, I see why Tol leaves you in charge of the cart. Ya don't let 'em get by with gettin' it for free."_

"Yeah... 'cause Tol would kill me," Bud muttered under his breath. Those were the last words he'd spoken to Pharmer.

Bud laid there, motionless, listening to the chirping crickets. He didn't care if anyone found him; he wasn't happy, so why would he care? If it happened to be one of the Hatfields (who hadn't been seen as of late due to the bounties on their heads) then so be it. Bud didn't care.

"Pharmer... I miss ya. I miss ya a whole lot n I wish ya was here wit' me. Life ain't much fun without you n Tol in it. I'm never happy anymore, but I'm... I'm tryin', y'know? I'm tryin' so hard t' feel somethin' other than despair, but it ain't workin'. There was only one night where I felt a little happy, an' I felt so guilty for feelin' that way. It jus' feels like I shouldn't be happy when I know I was jus' as guilty as y'all with Ellison's death."

Bud paused, shifting slightly.

"But I reckon there ain't nothin' we can do 'bout that. I'm so sorry. I love ya. I love ya s' much, Pharmer. I'm real sorry that I'm still livin'. Maybe I shouldn't be, I don't know. It feels so wrong t' be here. Not-not _here, _but y'know, here. I should be with y'all, not comin' out t' your graves. I should be _with you, _Pharmer. You n Tol both."

Bud didn't say any more. He stayed silent and eventually dozed off.

—

On the morning of August 10, Ran'l went out to the cemetery to fetch his son, since he hadn't come home yet. He found him sleeping between the two graves, his brow slightly furrowed and his lips pursed in his sleep. He grunted and stirred, but he didn't wake.

Ran'l bent down, wrapping the boy's arm around his neck and lifting him. Bud's head fell against his shoulder, his right arm hanging limp. Ran'l started toward home, glancing at his son every few seconds.

Bud grunted again, his eyes slowly cracking open. He winced when the sun hit them, squeezing them shut again.

"Bud."

"Poppy? Wha're ya doin' here?"

"Came a-lookin' for you. Ya feelin' okay?"

"Mhm. Jus'... jus' had t' stay out here las' night."

"I know."

Bud blinked a few times before realizing his father was carrying him. He scrunched his nose and gently poked Ran'l.

"What?" Ran'l asked.

"Put me down."

Ran'l snorted and stopped walking, setting his son down, as he'd asked him to. Bud grumbled and fixed his shirt, walking beside Ran'l.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yes." Bud was silent for a second. "Real purdy day, ain't it?"

"Indeed it is," Ran'l nodded in agreement.

"What time is it, Poppy?"

"Prob'ly 'round nine now."

Bud sighed heavily. He hadn't meant to sleep so late.

"You go on in n get somethin' t' eat. Yer Mama's gonna kill us both if ya don't."

Bud shook his head, going inside.

—

Sunday meeting had felt longer that week. Maybe it was because of the stares Bud was receiving, or the fact that it was extremely hot in the church, but either way, it felt much longer than it usually did.

Bud was dawdling after the service, waiting for his parents to finish socializing with the neighbors.

"You won't believe what I heard! Bud McCoy was sleepin' out in that cemetery again, and he did it for three nights."

Bud huffed and rolled his eyes. He knew that he shouldn't get irritated at the older women of the church, but he was getting tired of being the person they gossiped about.

"_Three nights? _Good Lord, you'd think Ran'l would make that boy stay in that house with as much as he sneaks off. I wouldn't be surprised if we heard that Ran'l was forcin' Bud t' sleep in the same room he does! It'd be 'bout the only way he couldn't sneak outta that house."

Bud had a right to mourn his brothers. Sally and Ran'l didn't necessarily like him sleeping in the cemetery or the pawpaw patch, but they didn't mind it as much when he was back bright and early the next morning. It wasn't like Bud was sneaking off for days at a time and not returning home.

"I doubt that would help. Bud's determined t' drag this out as long as he can."

Oh, the attention thing again. He should've expected it, but he didn't. He hadn't expected the gossiping busybodies of the church to say anything about that. He supposed he was dreaming with that.

Bud turned his head when a hand was placed on his shoulder. His father stood there, and he gave him a questioning gaze.

"That boy wants nothin' but attention! If they keep givin' it to him, he'll never stop doin' what he's doin'. He don't talk unless they talk t' him, he never looks happy, he goes off to God knows where, then he sleeps in the cemetery and in the pawpaw patch. And don't forget how he swears he's jus' as guilty as Tolbert n Pharmer. He's rude and he's seekin' attention!"

Bud blanched. He didn't know what he could do to stop the gossip. He hadn't meant to make the family the most popular topic with the women, but apparently, he had.

"Hey. Look at me," Ran'l spoke softly. Bud lifted his gaze and met Ran'l's, tears welling in his eyes. "Don't listen ta them."

Bud made a noise in the back of his throat, fighting to keep his tears back. It didn't seem right that other people could say how long someone should grieve. Every person was different, and every situation was different. Bud thought he had the right to be grieving still.

Ran'l pulled him into an embrace, rubbing the boy's back while he murmured in his ear.

"Don't listen t' them. They don't listen t' nothin' but the tales people go 'round tellin' an' we know that yer tryin' your best with this. It's hard, I know it is. I understand what yer goin' through, son. I'm right proud of ya."

"Proud of what?" Bud croaked, managing to keep his tears back.

"You."

"Ain't nothin' t' be proud of there, Poppy."

"Oh, sure there is," Ran'l told him. "There's you. I'm proud of you. You're my youngest son an' my namesake, an' ya make me awful proud t' be yer Poppy. You'll do anythin' you're asked t' do. Ya do Cal's work for 'im when he's gotta ride out t' Pikeville, ya help Alifair n your Mama, ya try your best t' do what ya think is right. Ya got a good heart, Bud. An' you're one of the strongest boys I know. Not too many people'd be able t' take the pain you got."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't — I shouldn't listen t' them."

"Ya can't help it if they talk s' loud ya hear 'em way over here, Bud. Ya ain't done nothin' wrong, s' don't 'pologize."

"Look, ain't that Ran'l? Wonder if they're in another dis'greement," one of the women said.

"Why don't you head on over t' the cart, hm? Tell yer mother I'll be there in just a second."

"Poppy—"

Ran'l shot him a look.

"Okay, Poppy."

—

**_August 1884_**

Bud wasn't thrilled about being forced to go to the Election Day festival. He hadn't eaten or slept for about a week — he'd been too busy for that and he just couldn't sleep no matter how hard he tried — and he just wanted to curl up in bed and stay there for about a month or two.

He glanced up at his father as he approached the cart, forcing a small smile.

"Whatcha doin' over here? Ya never stay by the cart."

Bud shrugged as Ran'l leaned against the cart, lowering his gaze back to the ground. He didn't even want to be there, and he honestly didn't understand why he was forced to go. He knew what it was going to be — people would give him the attention he didn't want and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. And thus far, he'd been right.

"Ya want some popcorn or somethin'?"

He shook his head. The only thing he wanted was to go home, but he doubted he'd be allowed to do that. Bud might have been eighteen, but his parents were wary about leaving him at home by himself. He didn't know the reason why and he didn't care enough to ask, so he tolerated being dragged into town or to one of the festivals.

"How 'bout one of the sweets that the ladies are sellin'?" Ran'l asked, hoping he could get his son to agree to _something. _He'd just found out from Sally that Bud hadn't been eating at all.

"No, thank ya. I ain't feelin' s' good," Bud mumbled, jumping down.

"No? What's wrong?"

"Jus' don't feel good," he shrugged nonchalantly.

Ran'l hummed folding his arms over his chest. He could see the Hatfields — the ones that weren't hiding from bounty hunters — in the other side of the grounds, just as they always were. He didn't know how they always managed to get directly across from them.

"Poppy..."

"Yeah?"

Ran'l noticed how the boy wasn't leaning against the cart anymore, but was standing with one hand gripping the side of it so hard that his knuckles were white. Ran'l turned toward him, his face pinched in a concerned expression.

"I don't — I don't feel right."

And then Bud promptly fainted.

Ran'l caught him around his waist, managing to keep him somewhat upright. He slowly sunk to the ground maneuvering his son in his arms.

"Hey, hey, wake up, Bud."

Bud didn't wake.

"C'mon, son, wake up," Ran'l gently smacked his face. He didn't gain a reaction; Bud just laid there, limp and still. "Oh God, Bud, wake up. C'mon, I know ya can."

He didn't respond. Ran'l was growing more and more frightened, not knowing what he was supposed to do. He'd never really dealt with someone who fainted for no apparent reason, so it was something that scared him, especially when it was his youngest son that was unconscious in his arms.

Doc Rutherford knelt down beside Ran'l.

"What happened to 'im?" he questioned, opening his bag.

"I dunno. All he said was he didn't feel right."

Doc hummed before instructing Ran'l to lay Bud on the ground. Ran'l nodded and carefully laid his son on the ground.

"Well, would ya look at that? Bud McCoy's gon' be the one dyin' 'stead of Cap!" one of the Hatfields remarked.

Ran'l was too focused on his son to pay them any mind, but he did shoot them a nasty glare.

Jim and Calvin came running over, both of them crouching down near their father and brother. They both looked to Ran'l, who shook his head slightly.

"He'll be fine. He's just exhausted," Doc told them after a moment. "Get him home an' put him t' bed, Ran'l. An' when he wakes up, give him somethin' t' eat."

"A'ight. Thank ya. Jim, help me get 'im in the cart. Calvin, you tell your mother where I've gone. You n Jim are gonna bring her an' your sisters home, ya understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

—

Ran'l carried Bud inside, deciding that the boy could sleep in his and Sally's room for a while. He took him there, laying him on the bed before pulling the boy's boots off. He covered him up and moved to leave when Bud grasped his wrist.

"Poppy?"

"Hey, Bud. Ya enjoy scarin' me outta my wits?"

"What 'appened?" Bud yawned.

"Ya fainted. Doc says yer jus' exhausted. Why don't ya sleep a bit, hm?"

"Mkay. Will... will y' stay with me?"

Ran'l nodded. He went to the other side, taking off his hat, coat, vest, and boots. He set his boots in the corner and tossed the coat, vest, and hat onto a chair before climbing onto the bed and laying down beside his son. Bud curled up against him, his head lying on Ran'l's shoulder.

"'M sorry, Poppy. I jus' don't wanna be 'lone," he said quietly, wrapping his arms around his father.

"Why're you apologizin'? Ain't nothin' t' apologize for."

"Didn' know if ya wanna stay here or not. 'M real sorry, Poppy."

"Hey, listen t' me, I don't care t' stay wit'cha. All ya gotta do's ask me ta."

"Thank ya, Poppy. I jus' don't wanna bother no one."

"Ya don't bother us, Bud. We want t' help ya as much as we can, but we can't do that if ya don't tell us what ya need or want. We love ya, Bud."

Bud was still and silent for a moment. He slowly shook his head.

"Nah, Poppy. I bother a lotta people. 'Specially Cal n you n Mama. I jus' — I try Poppy, I really do, but nothin' works an' I still end up botherin' everybody."

"Well, ya don't bother me. Ya don't bother yer Mama neither. Cal acts like ya do, but I think he jus' does it sometimes t' try t' make ya smile or somethin'. I don't think ya really bother anybody, Bud."

"Feel like I do," he mumbled.

Ran'l brought his free hand up and cupped his son's cheek, gently rubbing it with his thumb. Bud hummed contentedly as his eyes fluttered closed, scooting a little closer to Ran'l.

"Ya don't bother us. Not at all," Ran'l tried to assure him.

"If ya say so, Poppy," Bud murmured, opening his eyes again.

"Why don't ya get some rest, hm? You'll feel better if ya do."

—

When Sally returned home with the other children after hearing what had happened (and after waiting long enough for Calvin to participate in the shooting contest), she went looking for Bud to make sure he was alright. She checked his room first, finding that he wasn't there, so she went down to the room that she shared with her husband.

She slowly cracked the door open, being careful to be as silent as she possibly could. Her husband and her youngest son were there, both fast asleep. Bud had both arms wrapped around Ran'l's middle and his head on his shoulder. Ran'l had one arm wrapped around his son, his other hand resting against Bud's face, and his head was turned to the side.

She couldn't help the quiet giggle when she realized Bud was sleeping on her side of the bed. Ran'l must have anticipated the boy wanting someone to stay with him, otherwise he probably would have been in the center and on the opposite side if Ran'l hadn't.

Bud stirred and woke Ran'l, whose eyes immediately focused on his son. Seeing that he was okay, Ran'l began to rub his cheek. Bud moved closer (if that was even possible) and hummed. Ran'l huffed in amusement, blinking a few times to keep himself awake.

His eyes flicked over to the door, seeing Sally.

"When'd you get home?" Ran'l asked softly, trying to keep his voice low so he wouldn't wake Bud.

"Few minutes ago. He seems happy," she remarked, nodding toward their son.

"Reckon he is. For now, at least. I worry about him, Sally," Ran'l murmured, his gaze returning to his son.

"We all do," Sally told him as she approached, sitting down on the side of the bed. "He's gettin' a lot closer t' ya, Ran'l. I don't think he's realized it yet, but he's gotten t' where he depends on you."

Ran'l watched as Bud woke up, his brows furrowing in confusion when his eyes focused on Ran'l. He watched as realization swept over his face and tears welled in his eyes. He bit down on his lip and shook his head gently.

He should have known that it was a dream. Tolbert wasn't alive anymore.

"You a'ight?" Ran'l asked.

"Yeah, Poppy," he answered, his voice wavering. "It was jus' a dream."

Ran'l sighed and pulled his fingers through Bud's oily locks of brunette hair. Bud stayed there, sniffling and closing his eyes for a moment.

He was _fine. _He had to be. He'd caused enough trouble for one day when he fainted at the Election Day festival. He didn't need to start crying again. Bud pushed himself up to a sitting position and got up, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand.

"I'll go fix somethin' t' eat. I'll be back in a minute."

Ran'l got up and groaned as his back popped.

"Son, ya best enjoy yer life while yer young. Ya get t' my age an' ya can't do nothin' for your bones a-crackin'."

Bud forced a smile.

"What's botherin' ya so bad?"

"Jus' had a stupid dream. It felt _real, _Poppy. First time in a long while I ain't had no bad dream."

"I wouldn't think that would bother you."

"I know, but Tol n Pharmer were in it an' it felt so real that I thought it was for a minute. I hate dreams like that."

"I know. I used t' have 'em all the time after I came back from the war. It'd either be one of the battles, or the Yankee prison camp, or your Uncle Harmon. They're no fun."

Bud let Ran'l pull him into a tight hug.

"I miss 'em so much, Poppy," he whimpered, burying his face in the crook of Ran'l's neck.

"I know ya do. You're okay, it's okay t' miss 'em the way ya do. We won't ever judge ya for it, ya understand?"

"Yeah, Poppy."

—

**_January 1888_**

Bud had gotten closer to Ran'l. His father became the person that he depended on, and he even started talking a little more than he used to. Calvin and Jim had found that to be relieving, especially now that they could get him to tell them what was wrong with him. It made life a lot easier.

Ran'l, Bud, Sally, Alifair, and Calvin had stayed up late the night before, just talking to one another while they waited for the new year to begin. Bud hadn't slept but maybe an hour or two when Ran'l came into the room, smacking his calf.

"Get up! Hatfields are prowlin'."

"What?" Bud mumbled sleepily, sitting up a little and rubbing his eyes.

"Hatfields are outside. Git up n get dressed."

"Mkay, Poppy. I'll be down in a minute."

Bud got up and dressed, sliding his suspenders onto his shoulders before snatching his rifle out of the corner. He went downstairs where Sally, Alifair, and the younger children were.

"Git back!" he hissed. "Y'all crazy or somethin'? Git away from those windows!"

The girls gasped and tensed, looking over at their older brother.

"Mama, gimme that."

She did, and Bud bent down near one of the windows, loading his rifle.

"Y'all hide, ya hear me? Ain't no Hatfields gonna touch y'all."

"Bud—"

"_Trinnie. _Ev'rythin'll be fine. Jus' hide for a while, okay?"

The little girl nodded as Ran'l and Calvin came back downstairs.

"_Randall!_" Bad Jim hollered.

Bud winced, as did Calvin before he shouted, "He's not here!"

Ran'l shot him a look that screamed "are you crazy" before grabbing his gun.

"Ran'l, get!" Sally hissed, ushering him toward the back door.

"Bud, go make sure it's alright," Calvin ordered, keeping his voice low.

"Randall!" Jim shouted again.

"He's _not here!_ It's jus' me, my brother, an' women and children!"

Ran'l and Bud crept toward the back door, trying to be as silent as possible. Ran'l pulled the door open and Bud spotted someone near one of the trees. He saw the gun raise and he shoved Ran'l out of the way, gasping as a sharp burning pain erupted in his chest.

Ran'l stared at him for a second before lifting him and taking off toward the woods. Ran'l didn't stop running until he reached a clearing, nearly stumbling as he knelt with his son in his arms.

"Oh God, Poppy, it hurts," Bud mumbled.

"I know it does, son. Here, let's — let's get this off ya. We gotta stop the bleedin'."

"Poppy, no—"

"_Bud, _I'm not gonna lose you."

Bud stayed silent while Ran'l took his shirt off of him. He knew he was going to die. He didn't see any other outcome with the current situation. He'd been shot in the chest, what else could possibly happen? Not many people lived through that.

Bud nearly screamed when Ran'l applied pressure to the wound. One of Ran'l's hands clamped over Bud's mouth and muffled the scream.

"I'm sorry," Ran'l whispered. "Ya can't scream, Bud."

Bud nodded. He understood; he just hadn't paid attention and it caught him off guard.

"Poppy, _please, _stop," Bud pleaded, shoving at his hand. "It's—it's not gonna help none."

"Bud, quit!"

"Please, Poppy, stop it."

Ran'l gathered Bud into his arms, still holding the wadded shirt against the wound. Bud gazed at Ran'l, his hazel eyes shining with unshed tears.

"'M real sorry, Poppy," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't — I don't think I'm gonna live much longer."

"Yes, ya will. You're gonna be okay," Ran'l told him, his voice strained. "You're gonna be fine, Bud, jus' hang on."

"No, Poppy. 'M not gonna be okay. An' I'm okay with that. I'm real sorry for everythin'."

"Nonono, ya quit talkin' that way. Yer gonna be fine, Bud. Ya have t' be."

"Ya remember after Tol an' Pharmer died? When I said I didn't care if I died? It took a few years, but it's gonna happen, Poppy. I'm dyin'."

"No, Bud, stop—"

"Poppy." Bud gave him a look. "I know I'm dyin'. Not many people survive a gunshot wound t' the chest. I love ya, Poppy."

"I love ya too, son. Love ya a whole lot." Ran'l let go of the wadded shirt, bringing his hand up to his son's face. "Don't ya leave me yet, ya hear me?"

"'M tryin', Poppy. 'M tryin' — tryin' real hard."

"Ya gotta stay awake, son. Stay awake."

"A'ight."

Ran'l rubbed Bud's cheek, watching the boy take in a deep, shaky breath.

"Poppy..."

"Yeah, Bud?"

"I don't wanna die," Bud uttered, a single tear slipping down his face. "'M real sorry, Poppy."

"Hey, hey, don't apologize. It's alright, it's not your fault, Bud."

"I'm so sorry. I love ya."

"I love ya too, son," Ran'l rasped, pressing his lips to his son's forehead.

Bud closed his eyes and let his head fall against his father's shoulder. He buried his face in the crook of Ran'l's neck, and he could feel a tear that fell off of his father's face.

"Don't cry, Poppy. It's — it's okay."

"No, it's not," Ran'l whispered. "I don't want t' lose you, Bud."

"I... I love ya, Poppy. 'M real sorry."

"Nononono, stay awake! _Stay awake, _Bud!"

Bud blinked a few times before closing his eyes, taking in a shallow breath.

"Sorry, Poppy."

Bud's world went black.


	8. Good Enough (Modern AU)

**_November 2017_**

Bud entered Tolbert's home, scratching the back of his neck. He had no doubt his older brother was going to make a remark about his appearance and he'd end up telling him that he was going out, but he hoped it wouldn't happen. He was just there to pick up his wallet.

"Dang, don't you look nice. Where ya goin'?" Tolbert asked, catching sight of Bud as he stepped in the kitchen.

"Pikeville," he responded swiftly, grabbing his wallet and stuffing it in his pocket.

"Pikeville? Ya never dress that nice just t' go t' Pikeville."

"Who said I'm jus' goin' t' Pikeville? I'm meetin' someone there."

"Who?"

"It don't matter, I've gotta—"

"Bud, you're tryin' awful hard t' keep whatever you're doin' from me. Ya ain't goin' t' do anythin' that'll get ya in trouble, are ya?"

"What? No!" Bud denied instantly. "I'm just goin' on a date, Tolbert, it's not a big deal."

Bud's eyes widened when he realized what he'd said. He hadn't meant to tell Tolbert. Tolbert still had problems trusting anyone who played sports when they talked with Bud because of William Johnson.

And yeah, sure, William bullied Bud relentlessly, but that didn't mean every athlete in the school was a bad person. Besides, Evelyn had been the one to ask Bud if he wanted to go out.

"A date? Who ya goin' out with?" Tolbert had a teasing smile on his face, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Evelyn."

"You mean the one that's William's ex-girlfriend?"

"Well... yeah, but—"

"Bud, have ya lost your ever-lovin' mind?"

"No. I'm just going on a date, Tolbert. It's not like I'm marrying her."

"That's not the point."

"Not everyone is out t' get me, Tolbert. Evelyn's nice. She asked me out t' dinner an' I said yes. I'm goin' whether you like it or not."

"That's not what I'm sayin', Bud," Tolbert said irritably.

"No? Then what the heck are ya sayin', Tolbert?" Bud demanded.

"I'm just sayin' that maybe you should be a little more cautious, Bud. Ya don't know—"

"Don't know _what, _Tolbert? Evelyn's nice and it don't hurt to go to dinner with her one night."

"My God, Bud! Ya never listen ta anyone! Sometimes I wonder why ya was born, 'cause ya certainly ain't made life easier for any of us! If ya wanna go, go! But don't ya call me cryin' when she don't show up. I don't care if she shows up or not." Tolbert lashed out.

"Why d'you always think everyone's out t' get me? Not _everyone _is against me, Tolbert!" Bud shouted.

"Ya know, you seem t' think you know everything. Well, ya don't, Bud. Yer not as perfect as ya act like ya are! Jus' 'cause you got Poppy's name don't mean a thing, Bud! Ya've become nothin' but a burden lately, and I'm sick of it! If ya wanna go out an' get humiliated, go on! I don't care what ya do, Bud!"

"Don't bring my name int' this! I didn't choose my name, Tolbert. Mama n Poppy gave it t' me an' I can't do a dagon thing about that!"

"Well, geez, Bud, I wonder if they regret givin' it to ya. Ya ain't done nothin' t' make 'em proud of ya! Ya stand around and argue with everybody but that's about it!"

"If ya hate me s' much, why don't ya just come right out and say it?! Quit tryin' t' get around it if that's what you're—"

"_Shut up!_" Tolbert roared. "For once in your life, shut up! Ya want me t' say it? Fine! _I hate you! _I hate ya, Bud! That make ya happy? Huh? Does that make you happy?!"

Tolbert shoved Bud so hard that he stumbled and landed on the floor. Bud peered up at him, fear shining in his hazel eyes. Tolbert let out a bitter chuckle.

"Ya know, I have _never _hated anyone as much as I hate you right now. I wish I'd never met you."

"Yeah, well, I never woulda been born if that happened, Tolbert," Bud snapped.

Tolbert huffed and turned his back to Bud. Bud clenched his jaw before deciding to lash out at Tolbert the same way Tolbert had at him.

"I'm gonna make it clear here n now that I don't _want _you, I don't _need _you, and I certainly don't _love you. _I hate you, Tolbert!"

"Get out."

Bud stood up and glared at him.

"_GET OUT! _I don't want t' see your face right now!"

—

Bud sat in the parking lot, eyes closed and his head leaned back. He was stupid. He was stupid for thinking that maybe, just maybe, it might have been a legitimate thing. Tolbert had been right and Bud regretted everything he'd said to him earlier that evening.

She never showed up.

Bud picked up his phone and dialed Tolbert's number. He didn't expect him to answer it — Tolbert had made it plain that he wouldn't if Bud called him. So he waited for the voicemail to pick up.

"H-hey, Tol. I know you're mad at me, ya have every right to be. Ya have every right t' hate me, an-an' I have no doubt that ya will after I do what I'm plannin' on doin'. So—so I figured I'd call t' say that you were right. She never showed up. I was stupid for thinkin' that she would. I'm real sorry for everythin' I said t' ya t'night, Tol. I just... I had t' call t' say goodbye. I won't be comin' home. None — none of this has anythin' t' do with you, it's all me, and I swear I won't ever bother ya again."

Bud paused for a second, his throat constricting while he fought back a sob.

"Do me a favor n tell Mama an' Poppy I love 'em. Tell 'em I'm sorry for everything I've ever done an—an' that I'm sorry I couldn't be—couldn't be better. I'm sorry, I'm _so sorry. _I'm sorry for bein' such a burden t' ya, Tolbert. I wish you woulda told me sooner. I wouldn't — I wouldn't've bothered you nearly as much if ya had. I'm so sorry."

He sniffled before continuing.

"I know that you'll probably hate me by the time ya actually listen t' this, but I love you, Tolbert. I love you so much and I'm so sorry. Don't — don't waste your time worryin' 'bout me anymore. It's not worth it, I promise ya. I'm sorry, Tol. _I love you._"

He hung up and threw his phone onto the passenger seat, starting the engine to his SUV. He could remember the shocked looks he'd received when he'd come home with it. They'd expected him to buy a pickup, but he'd found a nice SUV for the same price as the old beat-up truck he'd been planning to buy.

Bud shook his head, throwing the gearshift in reverse. He didn't have the time to sit in a parking lot and cry.

He followed the yellow arrow around the building and stopped at the end, flicking on his turn signal and turning onto 119.

He regretted every word he'd said to Tolbert that evening. If he had listened to Tolbert, he wouldn't be in the predicament he'd gotten himself into. Tolbert was rarely wrong when it came to things like this, so why didn't Bud listen to him?

Bud's grip tightened on the steering wheel. Tolbert had made a good point — he'd never done anything to make Ran'l and Sally proud of him. They had to regret him. His younger sisters were doing better than he was when it came to making their parents proud.

He slowed to a stop at a red light. His phone started to ring and he answered it, putting it on speaker.

"Bud, where are you?" Tolbert's voice came through.

"I'm on 119," he answered honestly. "Why're you callin' me?"

"I got yer message. What're ya doin'?" Tolbert queried.

"Nothin' that you need t' worry about. I'm just a burden, remember?" Bud quipped, pressing on the gas pedal.

"Bud—"

"No. Just shut up, Tolbert. I am sick and tired of this."

"What're ya talkin' about? Bud, don't you do nothin—"

"I will do whatever I want!" Bud shouted. "I'm sixteen, I don't need you tellin' me what I can and cannot do. I'm not a child that you can boss around anymore."

"Bud—"

"Just leave me alone, Tolbert. I get it, you hate me. You were right, she never showed up. I'm stupid for thinkin' that she would, I just — she seemed so nice that I thought... It don't matter. I'll be outta your hair soon enough. I'm sorry for everything I said. Just... _please _tell Mama n Poppy I love 'em, will ya?"

"Bud, why don't you? Just go home, Bud, everything would be better if ya did."

"No, it wouldn't. It would be worse. Just tell 'em that, please, and tell 'em I'm so sorry I couldn't be better. I'm terrible, I know, I'm so sorry," his voice cracked, his vision blurring for a second.

Bud wished that Tolbert would just hang up. He hadn't meant for him to call him back.

"Bud, listen t' me—"

"I'm done listening, Tolbert. I'm gonna do what I want t' do. I'm sorry I couldn't be better. Maybe if I was, none of this would happen. Maybe if I was better, I'd have someone who loves me. But I'm not and I don't, so... so tell Mama n Poppy I love 'em. Heck, Tol, I love you. I'm sorry for what I said."

"_Please, _Bud. Think about this. Just — just go t' Jim's place, or Roseanna's, or Alifair's," Tolbert pleaded.

"I can't bother them, Tolbert. Leave me alone. I'm fine, everythin's fine. There's nothin' t' worry about."

"No? Ya said ya ain't goin' home, Bud. Where are ya goin'?" Tolbert pressed.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

"Bud—"

"I love ya, Tol."

Bud reached over and hung up before Tolbert could utter another word. He let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

He flicked the turn signal again, slowing down as he turned off onto one of the backroads. He'd rather take the long way around, anyways. He just didn't want to go home for a night. He'd gotten paid that day, so he could afford one of the hotels over in Logan. He would just take the scenic route.

—

Reaching Matewan, Bud pulled off into a gravel parking lot and threw the gearshift into park. He got out for a moment, trying to decide if maybe he was being ridiculous and should just go home. On the other hand, Bud was a burden. Maybe he should eliminate the burden that plagued the McCoy family.

He shook his head, stretching his arms over his head. He was stiff and he really needed to loosen up before continuing his drive. He still had about an hour to go. Well... more like forty-five minutes, if he remembered correctly.

Bud got back in his vehicle, buckling his seatbelt and connected his phone to the radio — thankfully he'd found a newer model that had Bluetooth — and hit shuffle play on his playlist. He threw the gearshift into drive, pulling out onto the road again and laughing when _Country Roads _started playing.

He tapped his finger against the steering wheel to the beat, shaking his head lightly. It was ironic that the first song that played was _Country Roads. _Bud didn't mind that at all; he liked the song and John Denver was one of his favorite artists.

Bud wasn't planning on doing anything; he just needed to get away from everything for one night to calm down. He was _fine. _He was just worked up from the argument with Tolbert — which hurt him more than he cared to admit — and because he'd been tricked. He had no doubt he'd hear about it on Monday.

So he would retreat to Logan for a night and go home the first thing in the morning. Well, he'd return home after finding a way to apologize to his parents for scaring them. He'd probably find something for each of them before he went back. It was the least he could do.

But he wouldn't apologize to Tolbert. He'd told him that he wouldn't bother him and that he'd be out of his hair, and he intended to keep his word. Tolbert hated him, so why should he make an effort? He was nothing but a burden to him and Bud hated that Tolbert hadn't ever told him that. He loved his brother, but he hated that he hadn't told him how he really felt.

Bud wouldn't have bothered him nearly as much if he had known how Tolbert truly felt about it.

So he kept driving, trying to focus on the music rather than his thoughts. He didn't like it when he thought about things like that, and he especially didn't want to do it while he was driving. He had the tendency to space out when he did.

Bud clicked his tongue and turned the radio up a bit. Bud wasn't one that really liked the modern country music; he preferred artists like John Denver and Johnny Cash. So he was happy with _Boy from the Country _playing. It was one of his favorites.

Bud's music taste was mostly bluegrass, old country, and southern gospel. Well... maybe bluegrass gospel described what he liked. He liked a few of the ones that fell under the southern gospel category, but he preferred the bluegrass gospel bands. And mixed in with that were songs from movies. He liked a few Disney songs and then there were movie musicals that had gorgeous soundtracks that he fell in love with the minute he heard them.

Ran'l was always laughing when he rode with Bud. The music went from John Denver to _Hakuna Matata_ in less than three seconds flat. Bud would laugh as well, saying that it perfectly described him.

Bud sighed. Maybe he shouldn't scare his parents the way he was, but he just had to get away. He was sure they'd understand after he explained himself.

Bud flinched when he was suddenly blinded by headlights. It took him a few seconds to realize that the vehicle was on his side of the road, his eyes widening. He gasped and slammed on the brakes in a panic, the tires squealing terribly.

_Oh God, oh God, oh God._

Bud tightened his grip, not being able to relax his tense muscles. He knew it would do more damage if he didn't relax, but he couldn't. The vehicle looked bigger than his and it was going to hit him head-on in the middle of nowhere.

The car swerved at the last second, Bud's car coming to a complete stop. He was breathing heavily, and he was shaking, but he pressed the gas pedal and kept going. He would be fine once he got to Logan.

—

Pulling into a hotel parking lot in Logan, Bud hurriedly parked his SUV and hurried inside.

"Welcome to Candlewood Suites, how may I help you?"

"Uh, I need a room for the night."

"Alright. What's your name?"

Bud had two options — he could either give his real name or he could lie. He went with the latter.

"Tyler."

"I need yer last name too, hon."

"Jackson."

"Alright. You fill out this sheet while I find ya a room."

Bud grabbed a pen and filled it out. It was strange to put the name Tyler Jackson down, but he did it anyway. It wasn't like they would ever know that it was a lie; why should he feel bad about it? He had to stay somewhere and he didn't want to risk anyone finding him.

"A'ight, darlin'. It'll be $102.29. You'll be in room 215."

"Thanks," Bud mumbled, hurriedly paying. He gave her $105 and received his change before taking the keycard.

"The code for the WiFi is on the inside of that. Hope ya enjoy your stay."

Bud hurried to the elevator. Oh God, what was he doing? He was sixteen and he was running away from his problems.

He stepped inside and hit the button, leaning against the wall with a heavy sigh. He should've gone home. That's what he should have done. But it was too late for that now. Bud wasn't about to waste what he'd just paid for the hotel room.

But he knew that if he went home, Tolbert would likely be there, and he didn't want to see him. He didn't really want to talk to him either. He wasn't mad at him; he was just hurt.

Bud walked down the hall to room 215 and opened the door, flicking the light on. He walked further into the room, finding a queen-sized bed with a nightstand beside it. Bud pulled out his charger and plugged it in before turning on the lamp. He really didn't need that much light; one lamp would suffice.

He took off his boots before going back and hitting the switch again. Bud set the keycard on the nightstand and got in bed, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

He had several missed calls from most of his family and several texts. He decided to listen to the voicemails first, then decide if he wanted to call them back. He listened to Alifair's first.

_"Bud, you're scarin' me. Answer the phone, please, just... just let me talk to you or something. I don't know what happened but _please _call me back. I love ya, Bud."_

_"Bud? Hey! It's Ali. Tolbert called n said that somethin' was wrong and he can't get you t' pick up. I'm not sure if he's done somethin' to ya or not, but call me back, will ya? Ya know I'll gladly listen t' what ya have t' say and then go flail Tolbert's head if he did somethin' to ya. Ya gotta call me back, Bud. I'm starting to worry."_

He hated that he was worrying his sister, but he didn't really have much choice when he didn't have service. He listened to Calvin's next.

_"Bud, where are ya? You're really scarin' me. Just — call me back or text me, will ya?"_

_"Hey. Poppy called n said he can't get ya t' answer. I've tried to call ya and text ya already and ya haven't answered, so if you'd please answer your darn phone, that would be great."_

Bud couldn't help but laugh. Calvin always was the one that had an attitude that was constant.

_"Listen, this is... what, the third message I've left? Where are you? I'm scared outta my wits and can't find you nowheres in Pikeville or McCarr. Please call me back, Bud."_

_"Bud, hey, Pharmer again. If you could actually answer one of us, that would be fantastic. I'm gettin' ready to head out t' look for you, but I'll pretty much have cell service the entire time. Call me."_

_"Hey, Buddy. I got a call from Tolbert. He told me what happened, told me what was said. He's a jerk, I know, I gave him an earful. Where are you? God, Bud, you've got me worried. Ya don't have t' call Tol back if ya don't want to, just — _please _call me or somethin'. I swear I won't tell no one if ya don't want me to. I love ya, Buddy."_

Maybe he could call Pharmer. Pharmer would understand, wouldn't he?

_"Bud, darlin', please call me. I don't know what's goin' on, but Mama's scared half t' death. Call me back, will ya? I love ya."_

Roseanna always was sweet. He didn't know if he should call her or not, though. He moved on to Sally's.

_"Bud, please, answer your phone. You're scarin' me, darlin'. I don't know what Tol said to ya, or what happened with that girl you were supposed to go out with t'night, but yer really scarin' me. Call me back."_

_"Hey, Buddy. Thought I'd try t' call ya again. I don't know where you are or where you're goin' since ya claim ya ain't comin' home t'night, but call me when ya get there. I love ya, son."_

_"Baby, you're really startin' t' scare me. Please call me back. Heck, Bud, text me if ya want. Just let me know you're okay."_

_"Bud, I don't really know what's goin' on. Tolbert wouldn't say much other than ya told him t' tell us that ya love us and yer sorry ya ain't better. I don't know what's goin' on in your head, but ya best stop thinkin' that way. You're perfect the way ya are, baby. We don't want ya no other way. Call me back. I love you."_

Bud bit down on his lip. What had he done? He was scaring everyone out of their wits and he felt terrible for it. His hand shook when he hit Jim's name.

_"Bud... I know Tolbert hurt ya. I know that girl hurt ya too, but ya can't do anything irrational. This family needs you an awful lot. I'm over in Logan right now, but I promise I'll always be here for ya. Call me, will ya?"_

Jim was in Logan? If Bud had known that, he would have gone to Williamson. He shook his head, deciding to listen to Ran'l's before Tolbert's.

_"Bud, please answer me. You're scarin' me, son. I love ya."_

_"Hey... I ain't sure what happened with you n Tolbert, but I need ya t' answer the phone, Bud. I don't know what ya mean by you're sorry ya can't be better. You're perfect the way ya are, son. Me n yer Mama love ya very much an' we're proud of ya. Call me back, Bud. Love ya."_

Bud bit down on his lip. What was wrong with him? He was scaring everybody.

_"Bud, this is like the twentieth time I've called, I know, but ya got me real scared. I can't — I can't find ya nowheres. Call me back. Or text me. Somethin' so I know you're okay. I love you, kid."_

_"Hey! Look, I'm out in Pikeville now. Where the heck are you? You're really scaring me, Bud. Please just answer your phone."_

_"Bud, I swear, if ya don't stop ignorin' me, I'm gonna go lookin' for you. Yer scarin' me."_

_"I know ya don't wanna talk t' me, Bud, but at least let me know you're okay. I know I said a lot of things to you, but I didn't mean a word of it. Please call me or text me, heck, send a smoke signal if you want. I just need to know that you're okay, Buddy. I love you."_

_—_

Bud ended up calling Pharmer.

"Buddy? Oh, thank God! Where are you?"

"H-hey, Pharmer," Bud forced the words out. "Ya gotta promise ya won't tell no one."

"No, I won't — I won't tell."

"I'm in Logan. Candlewood Suites. I just — I had t' get away, Pharmer."

"Oh God, okay, uh, listen. I'll be there soon. I'm gonna call Mama n Poppy, let 'em know you're okay. That's all I'm gonna tell 'em. What room are ya in?"

"215."

"Got it. I'll be there soon, okay?"

"Okay. Love you, Pharmer."

"Love you too, Buddy."

—

Bud got up when he heard a knock on the door. He opened it and found Pharmer, who wrapped his arms tightly around his younger brother.

"Oh God, don't scare me like that," he mumbled into Bud's shoulder.

"'M sorry."

"Nonono, don't be sorry. I'm glad ya just ran off t' Logan."

Bud let out a breathless laugh.

"Wanna sit down?"

"Sure."

Bud went back to the bed, plugging his phone up before getting back in bed. Pharmer kicked off his shoes before he climbed on as well, laying down beside his brother.

"What happened, Buddy?"

"She didn't show up," Bud whispered. "I sat there in that stupid restaurant for twenty-five minutes and she _never_ showed up."

He sniffled and used his sleeve to wipe his nose.

"I'm stupid for thinkin' she'd actually show up anyway. I mean, why would someone like her actually wanna hang out with someone like me? It was stupid. Reckon I just thought that maybe someone wanted t' hang out with me, ya know? That — that maybe, _just maybe, _someone thought I was good enough to hang out with. But nah, I'm an idiot and I'm gonna hear all about it on Monday," Bud ranted, wiping at his eyes.

"You're good enough to hang out with, Bud. She's the idiot for doin' ya the way she did."

"I feel _so stupid. _Tol said she wa'n't gonna show up. I told him that she was, that not all of 'em were the same and — he was right. Everything he said was right. Sometimes... sometimes I wonder why I was born too. I ain't done nothin' but cause a bunch of trouble, so why am I even alive?"

"Because you're wanted an' you're needed, Buddy. Ya ain't caused no trouble."

"No? Then what am I doin' now?" He turned his head toward Pharmer.

"You're tryin' t' figure out how t' cope. You're hurt and ya don't wanna see that idiot brother of ours right now, so ya came here. I think ya just wanna calm down before thinkin' about it anymore," Pharmer told him, turning to look at him. "I know you, Bud. You're hurt."

"Yeah, I'm real hurt," he nodded. "It just ain't right, Pharmer. Why am I always the one gettin' hurt?"

"I don't know, Buddy."

"Ya know, not a single one of you really know what I put up with. My grades are terrible and I can't get 'em t' come back up, and — and I'm always gettin' shoved in a locker or beat up, or they're tellin' me I'm worthless and should just kill myself to put everyone out of their misery so they don't have to act like they-they love me anymore." Bud turned his head back toward the ceiling and shook it. "Then I get in that argument with Tolbert. I was stupid, I pushed him too far. He snapped, Pharmer. _Oh God, _he hates me."

Bud burst into a sob, covering his face with his hands.

"Oh, Buddy," Pharmer breathed.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not better. Maybe — maybe I should just do what they tell me t' do. It'd make everyone's lives a lot easier," Bud sniffled, wiping his eyes before letting his arms lay limp by his sides.

"Hey, no. We need you, Bud. We love ya the way ya are and we want ya here with us. We love ya a whole lot, Bud."

"Don't see why. Heck, Pharmer, Mama n Poppy gave me Poppy's name an' I ain't done a thing t' make 'em proud. It jus' ain't right. Why couldn't they give Poppy's name t' Jim, or-or you, or Tol, or Cal? I ain't done a thing. Bet they regret givin' it to me."

"No, they don't. You do more than you think, Bud."

"Pharmer, they have t' regret me. Out of all of us, I'm the one that's always gettin' in trouble over my grades an' what I say. They—they might not say it, but they have t' regret me. I've done nothin' but make their lives harder."

"That's not true. Where on earth did ya get that idea?" Pharmer queried, turning onto his side.

"Tol'ert. He said he wonders if they regret givin' me Poppy's name 'cause I ain't done nothin' t' make 'em proud. He-he's right, Pharmer. I've been thinkin' 'bout it an' he's right. Ain't never done nothin' that would make 'em proud o' me. I don't deserve t' have Poppy's name."

"Don't say things like that. Tolbert's not right, Bud."

"Yes, he is! Look at all the trouble I caused t'night, Pharmer. I scared them. They don't need someone like me. All I do is cause trouble and — oh God, what am I gonna do?"

"C'mere, Buddy."

Bud turned over and scooted closer to Pharmer, burying his face in the crook of Pharmer's neck. He wrapped his arms around him, squeezing his eyes shut while he fought against his tears.

"It's okay. Ya don't cause trouble, Bud. Sure, ya gave us all a good scare, but that's okay. Ya know why? 'Cause you're okay. We all love ya very much, Buddy. And if Mama an' Poppy didn't want you havin' Poppy's name, they wouldn't've gave it to ya when you was born."

"I shouldn't have Poppy's name."

"Why not?"

"Ain't done nothin' t' deserve it."

"Well, no one really deserves their name. It's given to 'em the day they're born," Pharmer pointed out.

"You know what I mean," Bud rolled his eyes. "My younger sisters do a better job at makin' Mama n Poppy proud of 'em than I do."

Pharmer sighed. He didn't really know what to say to him. All he knew was that Bud was in a mindset that could be considered dangerous.

"I'm never good enough, Pharmer," he admitted. "I'm not good enough for anybody. Not even my brother."

"Stop that," Pharmer commanded shakily. "You're good enough. You're more than good enough."

"I — forget it. I-I'm just overreacting again, I'm sorry. I'm just bein' an idiot, ignore me," Bud rambled, scooting back and turning to where his back faced Pharmer. "I'm real sorry for botherin' ya."

"You're not botherin' me. If I didn't wanna be here, I wouldn't be here."

"I don't know what's wrong with me, Pharmer. I always trust the wrong people. Heck, I reckon I was right t' trust Tolbert, though. He told me ev'rythin' plain with no complaint about it."

"He shouldn't've said what he said."

"He ain't wrong though. Reckon I did act like I was perfect. If he woulda jus' _told me, _I wouldn't've bothered him."

"What're ya talkin' about, Bud?"

"Said I've been nothin' but a burden lately n he's sick of it. I didn't know, Pharmer, I didn't _know. _If I'd've known, I wouldn't-a bothered him as much as I did."

"He said _what?_" Pharmer demanded. "Oh my — he better hope n pray I don't kill 'im the next time I see him."

"Don't. It's not worth it," Bud stated, his voice trembling.

"Bud, he told you you're a burden," Pharmer countered.

"I'm not worth it. Tol's a lot better than me, he always has been. He — he just snapped 'cause I pushed him too far. It's my fault, leave him alone. I told him I wouldn't bother him anymore an' I won't. I'm real sorry for all the trouble, Pharmer."

"What trouble? There's no trouble."

"Made a mess of everythin' again and — and Tolbert was right. _God, _why can't I ever do anythin' right?!"

"What mess? Bud, ya've got me confused."

"I've just made it worse. I ran off, didn't go home. It's — oh geez, Pharmer, Poppy's gonna kill me."

"Poppy ain't gonna kill ya. No one's gonna kill ya. We all love ya, Bud. Ya ain't no burden, no matter what Tolbert said to ya. I think you're one of the best out of all of us."

"Yer prob'ly the only one."

Pharmer sat up, gently rubbing his baby brother's shoulder.

"Yer a good kid, Bud. A good person. We love ya very much. Don't listen t' Tol, okay? Yer amazin'."

Bud stayed silent. It was probably best that he did anyway. He didn't want to bother Pharmer too much.  
He laid there, his eyes closing while Pharmer continued to rub his shoulder. He didn't mind it; it felt nice.

Bud's phone rang, startling him. He sighed and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Bud? Hey, are ya okay?" Alifair's voice filtered through the speaker.

"Yeah, Ali. I'm okay," he lied. It was a blatant lie, and he had a feeling Pharmer knew it, but the latter stayed silent.

"Where are ya? I'm worried 'bout ya."

"I'm okay. Just had t' get away for a night. I'll be back t'morrow, I promise."

"Okay. I love you, Bud."

"Love you too."

Bud hung up and set the phone down again, a heavy sigh passing through his lips.

"If ya want me t' go, jus' say so," Pharmer told him, still rubbing his shoulder.

"Well... I mean, ya don't have to. I don't care if ya stay."

"Ya ran off t' be alone. I think I can handle bein' told t' leave ya alone for one night," Pharmer jested.

"See ya t'morrow?" Bud lifted his head, his eyes meeting Pharmer's.

"Ya know it."

—

Bud woke up to his phone ringing. He grunted and cracked a single eye open, lifting it enough to see who was calling. _Poppy._

"'Ey," Bud mumbled groggily, shifting to where he laid on his back.

"I'm sorry, did I wake ya?" Ran'l asked.

"'S fine, Poppy. Whatcha want?"

"Wanted t' make sure you're okay. Pharmer wouldn't tell us anythin'."

"Oh. Yeah, 'm fine, Poppy," he yawned. "Don't ya worry none."

"Ya scared me real good. Don't know what happened or what Pharmer found out, but Tolbert got it once he got here," Ran'l told him, chuckling slightly.

"I told him not t' do that," Bud groaned. "It's fine. Tolbert jus' said some things an' he's right. Ain't no need t' yell at him or hit him."

Ran'l laughed quietly.

"I reckon I'll let ya go back t' sleep. I love ya, son."

"I love you too, Poppy."

—

When Bud returned home the next morning, Ran'l was sitting on the porch. Bud gulped and shut off the engine, unbuckling and grabbing his things before getting out.

"Oh, please don't ask, please don't ask," he whispered under his breath, shutting the door. "_Please _don't ask."

He walked up to the porch, climbing the few steps and forcing a small smile.

"Mornin', Poppy."

"Mornin', Bud. Go put yer stuff up. I wanna talk t' ya."

Oh, that wasn't good. That wasn't good at all.

Bud did as he was told, going inside and up the stairs to his room. He threw his phone and his charger on his bed, and decided to change into something a little more comfortable. Bud didn't mind blue jeans, but he really didn't want to wear them after sleeping in them. So he changed into a blue long-sleeve shirt that was baggy and a pair of black sweatpants.

He slipped his sneakers on before going back downstairs. He slipped out the door and sat down in the rocking chair beside Ran'l's.

"Where were ya?" Ran'l inquired.

"Logan. I stayed in a hotel last night," Bud replied, nervously picking at his nails.

"What for?"

"Just had t' get away for a night. Had t' think 'bout things, ya know? It was jus' a rough night, Poppy."

"What happened, Bud?"

"Got int' it with Tolbert. He — oh God, he said s' many things an' they're all _true. _I jus' wish he woulda told me sooner. Then — then I was stupid n actually believed that Evelyn would show up. I sat in that stupid restaurant for twenty-five minutes, Poppy. She didn't show up." Bud shook his head. "Don't know why I thought she would. Shoulda known it was all a joke."

"Oh, Buddy," Ran'l muttered sympathetically. "You okay?"

"Reckon so. Don't really have much of a choice. I gotta be okay, or it's gonna be ten times worse on Monday."

"I'm sorry that happened t' ya, son. That always hurts."

"Yeah," Bud nodded. He was quiet for a second, then asked, "Poppy, why'd ya name me Randolph Junior?"

"Well, the way me n yer Mama did it with you, I'd pick a name for a boy n she'd pick a name for a girl. Ya better be thankful you're a boy, too. She was gonna name ya something like... oh, what was it? _SALLY!_"

"Yeah, Ran'l?" Sally walked out onto the porch, drying her hands with a towel.

"What was ya goin' ta name Bud if he was a girl?"

"Oh, what was it?" Sally muttered, casting her eyes down while she thought about it. "It was either Charlotte Rose or Penelope Jane. One of you boys was gonna be one or t' other. Jus' can't remember which."

"Thank ya, Sally."

Sally rolled her eyes and shook her head, going back inside while she mumbled under her breath.

"Penelope Jane?" Bud looked at Ran'l with his face scrunched. "I'd rather be Charlotte Rose."

Ran'l couldn't help it; he laughed at him.

"That's not the point I'm tryin' t' make," he snorted, voice laced with amusement. "I told yer Mama that if ya was a boy, ya'd be named Randolph McCoy, Junior. Then I got deployed for a few months, an' when I came back, I had you. Ya made it a lot easier t' adjust t' bein' home again. Yer Mama says I spoiled ya when ya was a baby. I don't think I did."

Bud laughed softly and shook his head.

"I think yer Mama expected ya t' be a girl. It's a real shame ya wa'n't. I think the name Penelope Jane's kinda nice," Ran'l teased.

"Oh, stop it, Poppy!" Bud groaned, sinking in his chair. He glanced at his father, who was rolling with laughter, and huffed. "That ain't funny."

"Sure it is. Why're you askin' why I named ya Randolph?"

"I — jus' wonderin'," Bud shrugged. He couldn't exactly tell his father that he didn't feel he deserved the name Randolph. "Why didn't ya give it t' one of the others?"

"I dunno. Never really thought 'bout it. Ya not like it or somethin'?"

"No, no! That's not — that's not it. I was just wond'rin'. I mean, I'm your _fifth son, _Poppy. Ya had four other boys ya coulda named Randolph Junior."

"Yeah. Didn't wanna name 'em Randolph. We jus' named 'em James, Tolbert, Calvin, and Pharmer. We wanted you t' be Randolph."

"Why?"

"Just the way it worked out, son. Ya have t' admit Randolph's better than Penelope Jane and Charlotte Rose."

"Poppy, bring either one of them up again, an' I _swear, _I'll go t' Charleston t'night."

Ran'l chortled, leaning back in his chair. It wasn't often he found something that he could tease Bud about, but rekindling the names Sally had chosen for him if he had been a girl? Well, that was certainly something he didn't find funny. It was fun to tease him, even if he didn't get why Bud was suddenly asking why Ran'l had decided to give him his name.

"Y' sure there ain't no reason for it?" Bud pressed, looking at his father uncertainly.

"Well, I got a lot of kids, Bud. Might as well have one of 'em named after me," Ran'l smiled softly.

Bud couldn't help but snort at the answer. There were so many ways his father could have worded that, and he'd chosen those words.

"Well, I see your point, but that don't tell me why ya picked _me _t' be your namesake."

"'Cause I wanted you t' be my namesake. Ain't no other reason but that. Why d'you wanna know so bad?"

"Just wanna know," he fibbed.

His eyes caught sight of Tolbert's red pickup pulling into the driveway.

"I'm gonna head inside, Poppy. Didn't sleep too good last night."

"A'ight."

—

Bud locked himself in his room. He tried to think of something he could do to pass the time, just until Tolbert left. He'd promised he wouldn't bother him anymore, and he intended to keep his promise.

Bud jumped when someone knocked on his door.

"Bud! C'mon, Bud, this is ridiculous. I just wanna talk t' you!"

"Go away, Tolbert!" Bud snapped harshly. It was harsher than he intended it to be and he felt kind of bad for it, but he didn't apologize. He wouldn't apologize to Tolbert.

"Bud, please," Tolbert sighed tiredly. "I want t' talk t' you."

"Maybe I don't wanna talk ta you! Why can't ya just go away, Tolbert?"

"B'cause you scared me outta my wits last night, Bud! Let me talk t' ya for a minute, please."

Bud bit down on his lip, chewing on it while he tried to make up his mind. He had nothing to lose at this point, so why shouldn't he let Tolbert in to talk to him? He shuffled over to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open and waiting for Tolbert to enter.

Tolbert looked shocked, but he stepped inside, watching his baby brother while he shut the door again.

"Say what ya wanna say," Bud said bluntly, sitting down at his desk.

"I'm sorry. When I heard that — that voicemail ya left me, it scared me real bad. Then ya hung up on me n ya wouldn't answer and I thought that maybe..." Tolbert trailed off.

"That maybe I'd killed myself," he stated. "That was my original intention, but I changed my mind. I like livin', no matter how miserable I may be."

"Why're ya miserable?"

"Oh, gee, I haven't the slightest idea, Tolbert! I only had you tell me that ya hate me, an' that I don't deserve Poppy's name, an' that ya don't care if I humiliate myself! And let's not forget that ya told me I ain't been nothin' but a burden. I don't know why ya didn't tell me sooner if that's the way ya really feel about me." Bud's voice was trembling and he wouldn't look at Tolbert. He was pulling at his hair, his elbows propped up on the desk and his forehead pressed against the heels of his hands.

"I didn't — oh God, I'm so—"

"Sorry don't fix everything, Tolbert!" Bud whipped his head toward his older brother. "Sorry ain't gonna fix everything. You was right. She didn't show up. I sat there in that dumb restaurant for twenty-five minutes, an' she never showed up. I've never been so humiliated in my life."

"Ya okay, Bud?" Tolbert questioned softly.

"No, I'm not okay," Bud answered harshly. "I — I find out my brother hates me n thinks I ain't nothin' but a burden, then—then she don't show up n I just _know _I'm gonna hear about it on Monday 'cause I was stupid an' thought she'd actually show up. I'm an idiot."

"Bud—"

"I just don't understand it. I try, I try so hard an' nothin' goes right for me." He sniffled and wiped his nose with his sleeve, forcing back his tears. "I've tried t' make Mama n Poppy proud of me, but it always backfires in my face. I can't even keep my dagon grades up."

"So ya have a few bad grades," Tolbert shrugged nonchalantly. "It ain't that big of a deal."

"Ya don't — never mind. I wouldn't wanna be a burden again," Bud quipped, getting up and moving toward his window. "Leave me alone."

"Are you listenin' t' me? I'm sorry, a'ight? I didn't mean a word of it. I jus' lost my temper an' said things I knew would bother ya—"

"Whatever, Tolbert."

"Ya have ev'ry right t' be mad at me."

"Mad? What ever gave you the impression that I'm _mad? _I'm not mad at all!"

Tolbert sighed and dragged his hand down his face. He knew where this was going and he didn't like it at all. He didn't want to make it worse by losing his temper again, but he had no doubt that he would if this kept up.

"Bud, if you would just _listen—_"

"Listen ta what? Ta you? Why would I do that? Give me _one good reason _why I'd listen t' you, Tolbert!" Bud demanded.

"I don't know!" Tolbert raised his voice. "_I don't know, _okay? I just want ya t' listen ta me for one minute without openin' that big mouth of yours!"

"Well, I don't _want _to listen t' you!"

"I don't care what you want!"

"Ya never have, Tolbert."

"Oh, don't you give me that! I cared about what you wanted. I've helped you with stuff I didn't know a darn thing about, Bud! But I did it anyway because I cared. None of that is ever good enough for you, is it?"

"That's more than enough for me!" Bud screeched. "You have no idea what I put up with every day, Tolbert. So don't ya go sayin' I don't think you helpin' me ain't good enough!"

"_What you put up with?_" Tolbert scoffed. "Ya should see what I have t' put up with outta you!"

"Of course. It's always me, Tolbert! It's always me causin' all of the trouble in the family, ain't it? It's always me causin' every single one of your problems. Always me makin' a mess of everythin' an' just wishin' I could disappear when I do!"

"Ya did a good job at that last night! Ya scared everyone outta their wits, Bud! Did ya not even _think_ about what you disappearin' would do t' this family?!"

"I didn't have service, Tolbert! That's why I didn't answer! When I stopped last night, I called Pharmer. He—he came t' where I was an' he stayed for a while. Pharmer knew where I was."

"Yeah, I figured that out when he got back."

"I didn't mean t' scare no one! I just wanted t' get away. That's all I wanted. _One night _on my own t' try t' figure everything out, and — and it didn't work! 'Cause you're here again and it's just... _ugh! _I hate you! Why d'ya gotta make my life worse than what it already is?"

Tolbert didn't say anything. Instead, he drew his fist back and punched Bud as hard as he could across his face, sending the boy spiraling to the floor. Bud looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes, and he slowly backed himself into the corner.

_Oh God, what had he done?_

Tolbert was gonna kill him, he knew he was. Tolbert had that dangerous gleam in his eyes that Bud had always jokingly called the murderous look. He knew that look meant trouble for whoever was on the receiving end of it.

"You're unbelievable," Tolbert scoffed, shaking his head. "I make your life harder? Why don't ya try t' be one of us that has t' put up with you?"

"I know, alright? I know. I'm a burden on everybody and can't do nothin' right. Ya don't have t' tell me that, Tolbert."

"Ya sit around an' act like yer the best person in the world, an' ya always start fights and end up like this. I don't know what it is with you, Bud!"

Bud averted his gaze, his expression solemn. He didn't mean to cause so much trouble. He just tried to keep from getting hurt. If he acted like he knew what he was doing, maybe he wouldn't get hurt as much. But clearly, that didn't work.

"I don't know what's wrong with you!"

"Nothin's wrong with me!" Bud shouted.

"Clearly somethin' is!" Tolbert countered.

"Why does somethin' have t' be wrong with me? Maybe somethin's wrong with _you!_" Bud retaliated, hazel eyes burning with fury.

"You really wanna go down that road, Randolph? I assure you, it won't end well for ya," Tolbert growled.

"I don't care!" Bud stood up. "I don't care what you say or do! None of it's gonna change the fact that I hate you! I hate you more than anything, Tolbert!"

"Would you _shut up?!_"

Bud took another hit and stumbled, but he managed to catch his balance. He glared at Tolbert.

"Get. Out."

"No."

"_Excuse me? _This is my room! I don't want you in it! GET OUT!"

"And I said no! For the last sixteen years, I've done everything you asked me t' do. For once, I ain't gonna do what you say."

Bud shook his head, turning away from Tolbert. Why couldn't Tolbert leave him alone? That was all he wanted — to be left alone.

"Why can't you just leave me alone? All I want is t' be left alone."

"I'm sick of doin' what you say."

"So you're gonna stay here and annoy me? Wonderful."

"Watch it, Bud."

"Why should I? This is my room and I've told ya twice t' get out! I can say whatever I want in _my_ room! Now _get out!_"

"No! It's weird, isn't it? Bein' the one that's annoyed?" Tolbert sneered, shoving Bud.

Bud snapped. He punched Tolbert as hard as he could, and gasped, his hand flying up to his mouth once he realized what he'd done. He stumbled backward, his back hitting the wall.

Bud was as good as dead.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Bud exclaimed, trying to stop trembling.

"You're gonna be."

—

Bud laid on his floor. He hadn't moved since Tolbert left about ten minutes ago, and he knew that he deserved the beating he'd taken. He hadn't even tried to fight back.

He was stupid. He didn't know _why _he'd punched Tolbert the way he had, but he felt that Tolbert had given him what he deserved for it. He shouldn't've punched him.

Bud curled up into a ball, whimpering quietly. He'd messed everything up again. And this time, he wasn't going to be able to fix it.

_"I wish y' was never born! Ya ain't been nothin' but a burden on all of us for years, Bud! Heck, I bet yer the one Mama n Poppy regret the most outta all of us."_

He didn't blame Tolbert for what he'd said; he was mad and Tolbert rarely meant a word he said while he was mad. He'd just have to get used to doing everything without Tolbert. He promised to never bother him again and he was going to keep that promise.

The door opened. Bud didn't bother moving. His back was facing the door and he honestly didn't think he could move.

"Oh my God! What happened?"

_Calvin._

"N-nothin'," Bud forced the word out. "I'm fine."

"You're _not _fine. You're far from it," Calvin argued. "What happened t' you?"

"Got in a fight with Tolbert. He won."

It wasn't a complete lie. He'd just leave out the fact that it wasn't meant to be a physical fight until he'd punched Tolbert across his face.

Calvin bent down in front of him, his eyes flicking over Bud's frame.

"C'mon, let's getcha up. I'll clean ya up."

"Y' don't have to. I'll do it in a minute," Bud murmured.

"Nah, I'll do it," Calvin said softly. "C'mon, up ya get."

He carefully pulled Bud to his feet, grimacing when the boy cried out. Bud limped over to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it with a wince.

"I'll be right back."

Bud only nodded, staying silent.

He hadn't meant to make Tolbert so mad. Bud was rarely on the receiving end of Tolbert's anger, and it had never escalated to the point that Tolbert hit him. It was all Bud's fault. He should have just listened to what Tolbert had to say. Life would have been a lot better — and a lot more painless — that way.

He sobbed quietly. All he did was mess things up. He didn't mean to act like he was the best person in the world. He had thought that if he acted like he was carefree, nothing would happen. No one asked questions when he acted that way.

Why couldn't he ever do something right?

He looked up when Calvin came back. He had a bowl of water, a cloth, and what looked like a small tote bag hanging on his left arm.

"Couldn't carry it all, so I had t' grab a bag," he explained swiftly. He set the bag down before setting the bowl on the nightstand grabbing the cloth and wringing it out. "What started it?"

"We jus' got int' it an' it ended up bein' worse," Bud shrugged. He flinched away from Calvin when he placed the cloth against his eye.

"Sorry."

"'S okay. I just... I lost a fight, it ain't no big deal."

"No? It looks like you two were goin' for the pro-wrestling type of fight," Calvin remarked.

"That ain't funny."

"Sure it is."

Bud hummed and winced. It was going to be a long day.

—

On Tuesday, Bud went to school like he always did. The only difference was that he was sent to the school nurse, who called Tolbert because Bud was sick. He felt fine, but according to her, he was sick and needed to go home.

So he sat there, tapping his foot impatiently while he waited for someone to show up. He didn't expect Tolbert. He expected Ran'l, Sally, or Alifair.

Tolbert entered the small office, and Bud scowled. This wasn't going to end well, that much he was certain of.

"C'mon," Tolbert grumbled.

Bud got up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder with a suppressed grimace, nodding toward the nurse before following Tolbert out of the office.

"What're you doin' here?" Bud mumbled.

"Got a call sayin' you were sick. Ya wanna tell me what's wrong with ya?"

"Nothin' you need t' worry about. I'll just go home and take some Tylenol."

Tolbert sighed. He knew that Bud wouldn't be happy with him showing up, but Ran'l and Sally weren't home and Tolbert was the only one who could.

"Ya ain't goin' home. Mama n Poppy ain't there."

"Well, I ain't stayin' with you," Bud snapped.

"You're gonna have to. Just for a while. When Mama n Poppy get back, I'll take ya home."

"Absolutely not," Bud shook his head. "I don't wanna go nowhere with you!"

"Well, you've got to!" Tolbert raised his voice a bit. "I'm not gonna leave ya at home by yourself when yer sick."

"Why not? I'm sixteen, I can take care of myself," Bud argued, throwing his backpack in the truck before climbing in it.

"_You're sick,_" he emphasized, starting the engine. "It has nothin' t' do with your age."

Bud huffed and shifted to where he faced the window. He didn't want to be near Tolbert. No one knew what really happened; they just thought Tolbert and Bud had gotten in a fight and Bud had lost.

"Bud..."

"What?" Bud spat.

"What'd you tell them? I know ya didn't tell 'em the truth." Tolbert's voice was soft.

"It ain't none of your concern."

"Bud, what did you tell them?"

"Don't worry about it. It's savin' your hide."

"That's exactly why I'm worried. _What did you tell them?_"

Bud ignored him. He didn't have to tell Tolbert what he was saying.

"At least tell me how bad I hurt you," Tolbert pleaded.

"I've been livin' off Tylenol and ibuprofen the last few days."

"Oh God. I'm—"

"Don't you dare say what I think you're gonna say. You ain't sorry," he chuckled bitterly. "Take me home."

"You can't go home."

"I'm sixteen years old, Tolbert. I can take a couple of pills and put myself to bed," he lashed out. "Take me home. I don't wanna be near you."

Tolbert sighed heavily.

"I know you don't. But I promised Mama I'd take care of you until they got back, or until Pharmer or Cal came an' picked ya up. If it wasn't for that, I would gladly take your hateful butt to the house and leave ya there."

Bud huffed. _Of course, _Sally knew about it. He couldn't have something work out in his favor, no, he had to be stuck at Tolbert's place until someone came to pick him up. It wasn't right. Bud was old enough to take care of himself.

"Ya wanna get somethin' t' eat?"

"_No._"

"A'ight, I was just askin'. Ain't no need t' bite my head off."

—

Once they got to Tolbert's place, Bud followed him inside. He didn't necessarily want to be there, but he didn't really have much of a choice.

"Your room's the way ya left it."

Bud didn't say anything and stalked by him, pushing the door open and slamming it shut once he was inside. He threw his backpack in the corner and kicked off his shoes, walking to the dresser and bending down, opening the bottom drawer and grabbing a pair of grey sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt.

He changed before getting into bed, rolling over so his back faced the door. He grimaced and shifted slightly, trying to ease the pain.

Bud felt he had every right to be as mad as he was. Tolbert had beat him half to death, why would he want to be near him?

He heard the door open and stayed still. Maybe Tolbert would leave him alone if he acted like he was asleep.

"You do know I know yer not asleep, right?" Tolbert asked, approaching the bed. He moved to put his hand on Bud's forehead, but Bud swatted it away.

"Don't touch me."

"Bud, I need t' see if you're runnin' a fever or not." He reached out again.

"I said, _don't touch me!_" Bud shrieked, smacking his hand away a second time. "I don't want you t' touch me."

"At least take this," Tolbert sighed tiredly.

"No," he refused.

Tolbert was trying not to lose his temper. He was hot-headed, he knew he was, and Bud knew that he was, too. Tolbert didn't know what was wrong with him, but he would keep trying.

"Please? Mama told me t' take care of ya 'til someone comes n picks ya up. Let me do that," Tolbert pleaded, being sure to keep his voice soft and gentle.

"And I said no."

"Bud, it's just Tylenol."

"I don't care what it is, I don't need it. Will ya leave me alone now?"

"Yeah. I'll leave ya alone. There's some Gatorade on the nightstand if ya want it."

Bud heard Tolbert leave, closing the door behind him.

—

"Where's Bud?" Pharmer asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"He's in his room. Wouldn't let me touch him n he wouldn't take any medicine. Pretty sure it's just because it's me, though," Tolbert replied, glancing up at him. "I want t' know what he told you."

"About what?"

"About what happened on Saturday. What did he tell you?"

"He said y'all got in a fight," Pharmer shrugged. "Said he lost. Just a argument that turned int' somethin' worse."

"Oh good Lord," Tolbert breathed. "See if ya can get him t' tell ya what really happened. If he don't... I reckon I will."

—

Bud was sprawled on his bed, a thick, fluffy blanket laying over him.

"You okay?" Pharmer queried, stepping into his room.

"Mhm," he hummed. "Thanks for pickin' me up."

"Yer welcome. What happened t' ya on Saturday?"

"I told ya. I got in a fight with Tolbert."

"The way he's actin', that ain't all that happened. He said he'd tell me if you didn't."

"Well, get him t' tell ya. 'M hurtin'."

"A'ight. Mama sent me up here with some medicine. She said that ya are t' take it since ya fought Tolbert an' didn't take nothin' while ya was there."

"I don't need him t' take care of me."

"I know. Here, sit up."

Bud did as he was told, taking the two pills out of Pharmer's hand. He grumbled his thanks before taking them, washing them down with a sip of water.

"Sure ya want me finding out from Tolbert? Am I gonna wanna kill him?"

"Probably. But heck, Pharmer, I deserved it. I'll tell ya that much. I deserved what he done t' me."

Pharmer gave him a concerned look.

"Whatcha mean by that, Buddy?" Pharmer brushed Bud's thick, sweaty locks of hair back.

"I deserved ev'ry bit of it," Bud murmured, letting his head fall against Pharmer's shoulder. "Don't hurt him."

"I won't."

"Y' promise?" Bud peered at him with a childlike innocence.

"Yeah, Buddy. I promise."

—

Tolbert looked up as Pharmer waltzed into the kitchen, sitting down at the table across from him.

"May I help ya?" Tolbert drawled, closing his laptop.

"What happened?"

"It wasn't a fight. That idiot's tryin' t' save my hide."

"What are ya talkin' about?" Pharmer's voice dropped to a low volume.

"It was an argument, alright? That's all it was on his part. He punched me an' — I don't even know what happened after that. Reckon that was when I finally snapped. I beat him up an' he didn't even try t' fight back."

"Ya did what?"

Pharmer's eyes were as wide as silver dollars while he gaped at Tolbert. Tolbert's eyes flicked up and met Pharmer's before he averted his gaze again.

"Heck, Pharmer, I went with the intention t' 'pologize to him. I ended up hurtin' him more than what I already had, an' now he ain't ever gon' talk t' me 'gain."

"Tol, why in the world would ya do that?" Pharmer started to raise his voice a little, despite the dumbstruck expression that was still on his face.

"I don't know!" Tolbert exploded, getting up and pacing the floor. "I don't know and that's what _terrifies_ me. I don't know why I did it."

"Tol, he told me that he deserved ev'ry bit of it. _What happened?_"

"He said _what?_" Tolbert pivoted on his heel, staring at Pharmer. "He's an idiot. He didn't deserve none of that."

"He thinks that he did, Tol. Ya should hear some of the things he thinks about himself."

"Most of 'em probably caused by me. I broke him, didn't I?" Tolbert questioned, his voice thick with emotion.

"No, you didn't do it. Ya just happened t' be the one that set it all off. He's been that way for a while, got a little too good at hidin' it from us. B'tween you an' what Evelyn did to him, I don't think he knows what t' do anymore," Pharmer replied.

Tolbert sniffed and scratched the back of his neck, trying to think of something. He'd hurt Bud enough.

"I can understand that. Oh geez, Pharmer, what've I done?" He slumped against the kitchen island, hiding his face with his hands.

"Don't worry about him too much. I'm pretty sure he's sleepin'. He took some Tylenol before I left, so he should be fine."

"Ya ain't moved from that chair. Usually, ya already would've killed me."

"I promised Bud I wouldn't hurt you. I would like to, but I ain't breakin' a promise to him."

Tolbert chuckled breathlessly, wiping at his eyes.

"That boy is too good. We don't deserve him and his golden heart."

"No, we don't," Pharmer agreed. "Don't be too hard on yourself. He'll come around eventually."

—

**_January 2018_**

Bud wasn't happy. He was being forced to ride with Tolbert to West Virginia, and he didn't want to.

He'd done a decent job when it came to avoiding his older brother. The only time he couldn't avoid him was when the two happened to work together. That was also the only time Bud had spoken to him in the last two months.

"Don't be mad," Tolbert shook his head, his voice holding a pleading tone to it.

"Why not?" Bud grumbled.

"I just want one day where ya ain't mad at me." Tolbert glanced at him. "I'm sorry."

Bud sniffed and shifted slightly.

"I'm not mad," he said after a moment. "I'm just hurt."

"I know. I'm real sorry for what I did to ya. God, kid, I don't even know why I did that to ya."

"'Cause I deserved it?"

"You didn't deserve that."

Bud looked over at him before he looked down at his hands, picking at his nails.

"I kinda did. I had no reason t' hit you like that."

"Oh, like I had a reason the first two times?" Tolbert retorted. "I deserved what I got. You didn't."

"Don't feel that way," Bud admitted, his voice trembling. "Y'know, you honestly have no idea how long I'd been thinkin' 'bout my name n how I ain't ever made Mama n Poppy proud. I try, I really do, I just — I don't know. It never works out for me."

"Bud—"

"Tolbert... please tell me that ain't comin' straight for us," Bud whimpered.

"Oh God," Tolbert breathed. "Hang on."

Tolbert slammed the brakes and threw his arm over Bud, holding him back against the seat.

"Tolbert—"

"It's gonna be fine, don't worry."

—

It wasn't fine.

The truck had hit them head-on and Tolbert had received most of the damage since he'd pinned Bud against his seat. Bud got away with a few minor cuts and bruises; Tolbert had gone through the windshield and was unconscious in a hospital bed.

Bud sat by his side, tears welling in his eyes. He felt terrible. It was his fault that Tolbert hadn't been paying attention to the road. He'd looked over at him for a few seconds when Bud noticed it the truck heading straight for them.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, tears slipping onto his pale face. "It's all my fault, I'm sorry. You shouldn't-a done that, you idiot! I-I woulda been fine, why'd ya have to throw your arm over me? I'm _so sorry. _I love you. I love you s' much, Tol. _Please, _don't die on me."

"Bud?"

His head whipped toward the door, seeing Sally.

"Mama!"

"What happened, baby? Are you okay?"

"Mama, it was all my fault, 'm so sorry!" Bud burst into tears.

"How was it your fault, baby?" Sally asked softly, wiping her son's tears away.

"He — he woulda seen it if he hadn't been lookin' at me. We were talkin' n he jus' looked at me for a second or two, an—an' it came outta nowhere," he rambled frantically. "He held me back 'gainst the seat, Mama."

"Hey, hey, calm down a little. Breathe, honey, breathe." Sally gently rubbed his face.

"M-Mama, it's—it's my f-fa-fault."

"Come here," she murmured. Bud stood, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in the crook of her neck. "It's okay, baby, it wasn't your fault."

"I-if I hadn't been there, he wouldn't've thrown his arm over me n he wouldn't-a gone through the windshield. 'M so sorry, Mama," Bud sobbed.

"Hey, listen t' me, a'ight? It wasn't yer fault. The other driver was charged with a DUI. None of this has anythin' t' do with you. If Tolbert hadn't done what he did, both of ya mighta gone through that windshield."

Bud's breathing hitched. Sally moved to where she could see him, the boy looking down at her with tear-filled eyes. She gently cupped his face, wiping the tears away before gently pulling his head down a bit, planting a kiss on his forehead.

"You've gotta breathe, baby. It's okay. Tolbert's gonna be just fine."

"I—I ignored 'im for two months, Mama. I'm an idiot."

"You're not an idiot. From what I've heard, ya had ev'ry right t' do him like that. You two love each other, ya've got a strong bond. You'll work it out eventually. Ya always do."

"Reckon so," Bud mumbled. "Poppy here?"

"Yes. He's here n all your crazy siblings are here. They're out in the waitin' room."

"I'll — I'll head on out then. 'M real sorry."

"Quit apologizin' for somethin' that wasn't your fault."

Bud nodded, glancing at Tolbert before leaving the room. He walked down the hall, swallowing thickly as he drew closer to the waiting room. Bud should have stayed home. Bad things always happened when he was around, _he knew that, _and he still got in that stupid truck with Tolbert.

He rounded the corner, being met with the sight of several of his family members. His father was staring down at the floor. Jim nudged his arm, whispering something before pointing in Bud's direction. Ran'l was on his feet in less than ten seconds, and crossed the room and hugged his youngest son tightly.

"Thank God you're alright," he murmured.

Bud didn't say anything; he just wrapped his arms around his father, laying his head on his shoulder.

"How's Tolbert?"

"Unconscious. Said he'll be fine, but — but they don't know w-when he'll wake up," Bud answered in a hoarse whisper. "He—he held me back, Poppy, he shouldn't-a done that."

"He was protectin' you, Bud. He loves you."

"I don't care. He shouldn't've done it," Bud shook his head. "He—he got hurt so much worse 'cause he did."

"Hey, hey, stop that. If he hadn't thrown his arm in front of ya the way he did, it's likely that both of ya would be layin' unconscious in a hospital bed. It wasn't your fault. Tolbert's always protected ya an' he ain't gonna stop jus' 'cause the two of ya are quarrelin'. He's doin' what he's always done."

Bud sniffled. He was fine, really he was, he just didn't know what to do. It was his fault they were in this mess and he had no idea how to fix it.

"Go sit down with yer brothers. I'm gonna go talk t' yer Mama for a minute."

Bud nodded and did as he was told, sitting down between Jim and Pharmer. Jim put his hand on Bud's knee, gaining the boy's attention.

"Are you okay, Buddy?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice. Jim gave him a sympathetic smile, patting his knee.

"Ya sure?"

"Mhm. 'M fine," Bud muttered, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "'S Tol ya need t' worry 'bout."

"I'm worried 'bout both of ya."

"No need t' be. I'm fine. He isn't."

"He will be," Pharmer spoke up. "Tolbert ain't gonna die."

That made Bud burst into tears. Jim shot Pharmer a look.

"I didn't — oh God, I'm sorry, that ain't what I meant."

"Bud... let's go home. It's late an' ya need t' rest," Alifair spoke up, appearing in front of him. Bud shook his head. He couldn't leave, he just couldn't. "C'mon. Ya need t' go home. I promise ya first thing t'morrow, you can come back."

Bud didn't want to leave. He had to stay there. It was his fault that Tolbert was in a hospital bed. He had to stay, he just had to. Tolbert would stay if the roles were reversed; it was only right that Bud did the same.

"_Buddy, _y' need t' go home. I'll bring ya here first thing in the mornin'. _I promise,_" Alifair tried to persuade him.

"I can't," he rasped.

"Yes, ya can. Let's go."

"N-no! No, no, I'm not — I'm not leavin'," Bud sputtered. "I _can't _leave, Ali."

She crouched in front of him, taking his hands in hers.

"Please come home," she pleaded quietly. "I promise you, I'll bring ya here first thing in the mornin'. Ya need a shower an' ya need t' sleep an' eat somethin'."

"I can't leave, Ali," he stated shakily.

"Yes, ya can," Alifair nodded. "Ya need t' come home."

"I can't."

Alifair gently ran her thumb over his knuckles. Bud stared down at his hands, sniffling. She didn't understand, he couldn't leave. _He couldn't leave. _All of this was his fault, he couldn't leave Tolbert when he was unconscious in a hospital bed.

"Bud? Honey, what's wrong?"

He looked up, seeing Sally.

"I can't leave, Mama."

"Oh, baby," she breathed. "Listen, ya need t' go home t'night. Take a shower, eat somethin', get some sleep. Come back first thing t'morrow if ya want. I'll stay here and I'll call ya if he wakes up. I promise."

"But—but Mama, I can't—"

"I need ya t' take care of your sisters for me, hon. Do that for me, will ya?"

Bud nodded slowly. He could do that. If his mother needed someone to take care of the younger children, he could do it.

"Thank ya, darlin'. I love ya."

"Love you too, Mama."

—

Bud was up bright and early the next morning. He showered and dressed quickly, then went downstairs, where he grabbed an apple before heading out the door.

"Hey! Get back here, Randolph McCoy, Junior!"

"I gotta go!" Bud called over his shoulder. "I'll be back later, I promise!"

Alifair threw her hands up while he rushed out of the house. Bud hurried to his SUV, unlocking it before getting in. He set the apple down and started the car, closing the door and buckling his seatbelt.

He'd mostly grabbed the apple to give the impression that he would eat something. He had no intention of actually eating it; he wasn't hungry. If he hadn't grabbed it, Alifair wouldn't've let him get out the door.

Bud clicked his tongue while he pulled out of the driveway, heading for Pikeville. Tolbert hadn't woke up yet, and he was worried about him. His mother had sent him a text — after seeing he'd been active on social media at three in the morning — and assured him that Tolbert was fine, despite the fact there hadn't been any change.

He could stop somewhere and get Sally something to eat... She had never liked hospital food. As a matter of fact, she hated it with a burning passion. Bud could stop and get her some breakfast at the very least.

—

Bud had stopped at McDonald's, then continued on to the hospital. Walking into the room, he didn't say anything at first. Sally was too focused on Tolbert.

"Mornin', Mama," he said after a moment.

"Mornin', Penelope Jane," Sally greeted, looking over at him with an amused smirk.

"That ain't funny."

Sally giggled and watched as he grabbed the other chair in the room. He moved it beside her and sat down, handing her the bag in his hand.

"Gotcha some food. I know ya won't eat nothin' here," Bud forced a smile.

"What'd you eat this mornin'?" Sally queried, giving her son a knowing look.

"Ya know I don't eat in the mornin's, Mama. I never have."

"What'd ya grab t' get Alifair t' let ya outta the house?"

"An apple. It's out in the car."

Sally snorted and shook her head.

"Well, I thank ya. Ya didn't have t' do that, darlin'."

"Sure I did. Ya've been here all night n ya ain't slept. Least I can do is get ya somethin' that you'll actually eat. And, as you like t' remind me every time I do somethin' stupid or reckless, ya gave me life."

"Ya have t' get yer wit from your father," Sally remarked, causing the boy to laugh.

"Ya know ya love it," he grinned boyishly. It was then that Sally realized that he was still a boy; a boy who was blaming himself for what happened to his brother. The smile disappeared. "Is somethin' wrong, Mama?"

"Hm? Oh, no, baby. I was jus' thinkin'."

"Y' sure? I didn't do nothin', did I?" he asked uncertainly, his brows pinching together.

"No, Buddy, ya didn't do nothin'. I just got lost in my thoughts. Has nothin' t' do with ya or anythin' ya did. I love ya."

"I love ya too."

Bud was a child; a child that so desperately wanted to make his family proud of him. What he didn't know was that he did it almost daily. Bud was one of the best children Sally and Ran'l had. While all of their children were good people (though some had terrible temperaments), Bud always went out of his way to help his family and the friends of the family. Or in most cases, the people his family members were dating and/or married to.

Sally hadn't really noticed how hard he tried to please them until recently. He hadn't wanted to leave when Alifair asked him to yesterday, but the moment she did, Bud didn't fight her. He agreed to it and left.

Then, just the other day, he'd done something Ran'l had asked him to do in less than ten minutes. She couldn't remember what it was, but she could remember the way Ran'l looked at her — a shocked expression with pride gleaming in his eyes. Despite the quarrel between him and Tolbert, Bud hadn't let it affect his work ethic. He had spoken to Tolbert when he had to, and it was always quick and to the point before he did whatever it was he needed to do.

Bud didn't seem to understand just how proud his parents were. He made them proud more often than not, despite the scoldings he'd get for his grades.

"How're ya doin' in school, Bud?" she inquired.

"Same as last time ya asked," he responded with a heavy sigh. And within thirty seconds, he started to ramble. "I'm tryin', I promise I am! I just — I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't get my grades up. I—I know that you n Poppy want 'em t' be better than what they are, an' I'm real sorry they ain't. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothin's wrong with ya. It's okay. I know yer tryin', son. Don't worry so much, Bud. All I ask is that ya try your best."

"I'm tryin', Mama," he admitted tearfully. "I just _can't._"

"It's okay. Don't worry about that, honey."

Bud looked over at Sally, closing his eyes when Sally gently rubbed his cheek with the pad of her thumb. Bud hummed and subconsciously leaned into his mother's touch.

"Don't you worry 'bout none of that. Grades ain't important right now. You an' your brother are."

—

Two days later, Tolbert woke up. Bud was sleeping in the chair beside his bed, grasping Tolbert's hand in his. He snored quietly, his head hanging low while he slept, his honey-brown curls falling in front of his eyes.

"Bud," he rasped. Tolbert winced at the sound of his voice. "_Bud._"

Bud jerked awake, his eyes landing on Tolbert. He blinked a few times to clear his bleary vision, not realizing that Tolbert was awake yet. He hummed and shifted, closing his eyes again.

"Bud, don't go back t' sleep yet."

"Tol?" he mumbled, opening his eyes.

"Yeah, kid. What happened?"

"Some idiot hit us head-on. Y-you went through the windshield. Oh my God, I thought you were gonna die."

"Hey, ya can't get rid of me that easy. You okay?" Tolbert queried.

"Y-you can't be serious. Why're you worryin' 'bout me?"

"Well, you're my lil brother. You was in it too, I remember throwin' my arm over ya. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Jus' a few cuts n bruises. Nothin—nothin' ta worry about. Oh God, ya scared me," Bud broke down, crying while he held onto Tolbert's hand. "I'm — I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey, what're you apologizin' for?" Tolbert gently squeezed Bud's hand.

"My fault, all my fault, I'm so sorry," he cried, slouching in his chair, keeping hold of Tolbert's hand. "I-if I hadn't been with ya, y-ya wouldn't-a leaned forward like ya did. I'm _so sorry._"

"Stop that! It wasn't your fault," Tolbert told him.

"It was, oh gosh, it was. You — you shouldn't've thrown yer arm over me n leaned forward. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, stop. I don't regret what I did. You're safe, that's what matters t' me." Tolbert gently ran his thumb over Bud's knuckles.

"But you've been unconscious for three days, Tolbert," Bud said quietly. "Mama n Poppy let me stay last night. Took me two days t' convince 'em."

"Three days?" Tolbert gaped at him. "Dang."

"One heck of a nap ya took there," Bud laughed weakly, sitting on the edge of his chair. "I'm real sorry for all I've done the last few months. I — I started a fight, then scared ev'ryone outta their wits, started another one with you, an—an' then when ya picked me up when I was sick, I acted like a jerk. I'm so sorry for everythin' I did and said."

"Hey, most of it was my fault. I overreacted when you told me you were goin' on a date with Evelyn, an' I shouldn't've lost my temper when I tried talkin' to ya the day after ya came back. I never shoulda hit you the way that I did. Are you understanding me? None of it was your fault."

"I shouldn't've acted like I did when ya picked me up," Bud argued. "Y' was just tryin' t' help me."

"Bud, darlin', that was what, three days after I beat you to a bloody pulp? You had every right t' be as mad as ya were."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm the one that should be sorry, an' I am. I'm real sorry for all I did to ya, Buddy. Life's been mis'rable without you in it. I didn't mean a word I said ta you. I promise that much."

"I'm so sorry for what I said," Bud sniffled, wiping stuff his eyes. "I'm real sorry fer hittin' you, too."

"Don't worry 'bout that. I deserved that."

Bud chuckled, smiling sadly.

"Oh! I gotta — I gotta call Mama."

—

**_February 2018_**

Bud had been staying with Tolbert since he got out of the hospital a few weeks ago. He helped him out when he could, and was always more than willing to pick up the slack Tolbert's absence caused at the timbering company their father owned. Tolbert still received his full paycheck that way.

So when Bud shuffled into the house on a Wednesday, drenched with sweat and covered with dirt and grime and sawdust, Tolbert raised his brows at his brother's appearance. He didn't necessarily know that Bud had basically tripled his workload in the last few weeks.

"What happened t' you?" Tolbert's eyes scanned his little brother's frame.

"'S jus' been a long day," Bud waved it off. "I'm gonna go shower."

"Okay..."

Bud shuffled to his room, setting his backpack down with a grunt. His hands were blistered and his back hurt, but he was fine. He had to be. He couldn't let Tolbert know about the deal he'd made with Ran'l to ensure Tolbert would still get his paycheck.

Ran'l had protested, saying that he would still pay Tolbert no matter what, but Bud has insisted that he could do his work and his older brother's as well. And, as he'd pointed out, "Someone's gotta pick up the slack, Poppy. I'll do it. Just — just don't tell him what I'm a-doin'. He don't need t' know."

So Ran'l agreed to it (albeit reluctantly) and allowed his youngest son to pick up the slack. And thus far, Bud had done well with it. He'd started to wear his old clothes to school so he could go straight to the mill afterward. He was pretty sure Tolbert was starting to notice that, but Bud could easily cover it with a lie.

He grabbed a clean change of clothes — a wifebeater and the comfiest pair of sweatpants he had — and shuffled to the bathroom across the hall. He closed and locked the door, letting out a breath. He leaned against the sink for a second, shaking his head.

He was _fine. _Nothing was wrong; he was okay.

—

After Bud showered, he went to the living room and sat down on the couch beside Tolbert. He sat there for a moment before shifting to where he laid down, his head on Tolbert's lap.

"Hi there," Tolbert smirked in amusement. "Ya comfy?"

"Mhm," Bud hummed in response, staring at the ceiling.

"Here..." Tolbert reached behind him, grabbing a fluffy blanket and spreading it over Bud. "Better?"

"Yeah... thanks."

"No problem. Rough day?" Tolbert started to pull his fingers through Bud's thick honey-brown curls, watching the boy's eyes flutter shut while he sighed in contentment.

"Yeah, real rough day," he murmured. "That feels nice."

"What made it s' rough?"

"Gained a few new bruises t'day. Don't know what I did t' deserve 'em, but I've got 'em. My science teacher humiliated me in front of the whole class. I got done early, s' I was writin' in my notebook. Y'know, just like a little story or whatever, and she made me get up and read it t' everybody. I got real nervous and messed up real bad. They all laughed at me. Work wa'n't too bad. I can handle it."

"Glad work ain't too hard on y'all while I'm out. I gotta go back t' the doctor soon. I should be findin' out when I can start again."

"Don't push yerself too hard, please. I don't wanna spend a week in the hospital again."

"I ain't gonna push myself too hard. Poppy's still payin' me what he normally would, an' he said I'm t' do what the doctor says, so I'm gonna."

"For once," Bud added under his breath.

"I heard that," Tolbert chuckled.

"I'm too tired t' care," Bud retorted, cracking a single eye open. Tolbert laughed softly, the corners of his lips turned upward. "'M real tired."

"Why don't ya go t' bed then?" Tolbert quirked a brow.

"Don't wanna."

"A'ight. Ya wanna watch a movie or somethin'?"

"Nah. 'M good. Will ya tell me one of yer stories, Tol?" Bud requested. "Ya ain't done that in a long while."

"Yeah, kid," Tolbert gave a half-smile. "I'll tell ya a story."

—

Bud fell asleep not even halfway through the story. Tolbert didn't stop pulling his fingers through his hair, and he didn't move his other hand that held one of Bud's blistered ones.

It had been a long while since Bud fell asleep while using Tolbert as a pillow. The first week or so he'd stayed with him, he hadn't got close enough to him to do so. He later admitted that he was terrified that he was going to end up hurting Tolbert and Tolbert pulled him close. That put an end to that.

Tolbert carefully rubbed the back of Bud's hand, being careful to not touch the blisters on his palm. He wasn't sure how Bud had gotten them, but he knew that the boy was up to something. He'd started wearing his work clothes to school, and Bud usually wouldn't dress in ripped jeans and stained-up faded t-shirts to go to school. He usually dressed a little nicer — dark jeans and a flannel with his boots.

Well, he had an idea of how Bud got those blisters and why he was dressing the way that he was, but he hoped it was nothing more than a suspicion that he conjured up. He couldn't get his father to tell him anything and it was scaring Tolbert. If his suspicion was correct, Bud didn't need to do what he was doing.

Bud shifted slightly, softly snoring. Tolbert huffed in amusement, carefully maneuvering the boy into his arms before he stood up. He doubted Bud would wake for a while, so he'd put him to bed.

He hummed in sleep, his head lolling against Tolbert's shoulder. Tolbert found it amusing as he walked out of the living room and down the hall to Bud's room, where he laid his brother on his bed and covered him up. Bud's eyes opened for a split second before closing again.

—

Tolbert woke up to the sound of Bud running down the hallway. The door to his room was open, so he could see the boy's shadow as he drew closer, watching with hazy vision as he scurried into the room and over to him.

"Tol, 'm real sorry t' bother ya—"

"Ya don't bother me," Tolbert mumbled groggily, scooting back and lifting the covers. "C'mon."

Bud climbed onto the bed, sliding under the covers and curling up beside Tolbert. Tolbert could tell that the boy was panicky, but he didn't say anything. Bud would tell him about it if he wanted to.

"'M sorry," Bud muttered. "I'm sixteen, I shouldn't be runnin' t' you over a stupid nightmare. I'm — I'm sorry, I'll just go."

"Oh, don't be that way. It had t' be bad if ya came in here," Tolbert said knowingly. Bud looked at him and nodded slowly. It had been really bad. "Ya know I don't care if ya sleep in here wit' me."

"I'm sixteen. I shouldn't be runnin' t' my older brother n sleepin' in his room when I have a bad dream," Bud rolled his eyes.

"You don't unless it really scares ya. I know how you are. It's gotta be a bad one for you t' come in here."

Bud exhaled deeply through his nostrils, but he didn't complain when Tolbert started massaging his scalp. He closed his eyes, scooting a little closer and wrapping his arms around his older brother. He hummed while Tolbert pulled his fingers through his thick locks of hair, fighting to stay awake.

He didn't want to risk having another dream like the one he'd had a few moments ago.

"You can go t' sleep," Tolbert chuckled.

"Don't wanna," Bud yawned. "Wanna — wanna stay 'wake."

"Okay. Stay awake then."

"Y' need the car t'morrow?" Bud asked sleepily.

"Yeah, 'm afraid I do. I'll drop ya off in the mornin' n pick ya up after school. Sound good?"

"Yeah. 'S the way we always do."

"Well, it's your car. I wanna make sure it's okay with you."

Bud hummed, his eyes fluttering shut. He forced them to open again, blinking a few times. Tolbert chuckled, still playing with Bud's hair.

"I don't know 'bout you, but I'm goin' t' sleep. Night."

"Night."

—

Bud huffed as he grabbed another board, stacking it on top of the others. He stopped for a second, wiping his face with his hand, breathing heavily. He didn't complain; he just did his job and kept going.

The saw shut off.

"What're — what're ya doin'?" Bud called out to Calvin, grabbing the last board.

"We got comp'ny."

"Who?"

Bud turned around, coming face to face with Tolbert. He yelped and stumbled in surprise, his brothers laughing at him. Tolbert grasped the sleeves of Bud's coat and pulled him forward so he wouldn't fall, the corner of his lip turned upward.

"Whatcha doin'? Thought you didn't work up this way," Tolbert remarked.

"Yeah, Bud! Tell 'im what ya've been doin'!" Calvin exclaimed, knowing that Bud had kept it from Tolbert. Tolbert quirked a brow.

"'M workin'. That's all I've been doin'," Bud shot Calvin a nasty glare and pointed at him. "You shut your face."

Calvin doubled over in a fit of laughter, bending down to fix something.

"You don't work this high up. What're ya doin' up here?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Oh, I worry when you're involved in it. Yer hands are blistered and ya've been wearin' your work clothes to school. Ya never did that before the car wreck. What're you doin'?"

"Later," Bud sighed. "I swear I'll tell ya later."

"I'm holdin' you to that," Tolbert pointed at him. "If ya don't, I'll ask one of the others. You know they'll tell me."

Bud stayed silent and threw the board down. Tolbert left, leaving the four McCoy boys alone up at the mill. Pharmer looked terrified while Jim and Calvin looked amused.

"What?" Bud demanded.

"You're so in for it," Calvin snorted.

"Shut up and turn the saw back on. We got work t' do."

—

Bud groaned the instant he shuffled into his room. He went straight to his bed and flopped on it, not caring enough to take off his shoes or his filthy shirt.

"Dang. I thought somethin' was dyin' in here," Tolbert quipped.

"There is."

"What?"

"Me."

Tolbert laughed and shook his head. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing Bud's back.

"Ya haven't been doin' my job, have ya?" Tolbert queried.

"Someone's gotta," Bud responded quietly. "I'm okay, I can handle it. Cal n Jim n Pharmer have enough t' worry 'bout."

"_Bud._"

"I can do it! I—I've been doin' it ever since Poppy let me start workin' again. Which I was fine, didn't need a week off, but whatever, ya know? You're the one that got hurt the most and someone's gotta do it 'til you get back. I made a deal with Poppy that I'd do it an' he'd still pay you the way he usually does."

"Bud, ya didn't," Tolbert murmured, his eyes as wide as silver dollars. "Oh my God."

"He—he tried talkin' me out of it, tried sayin' he'd still pay ya no matter what, but-but I managed t' talk him int' lettin' me do it. Took a few days t' adjust but I've got it now. It's fine and yer still gettin' paid what ya normally would."

"Why would you do that?"

"I had t' do something, Tol," Bud's voice was trembling. "It was all my fault. I gotta — I gotta do somethin'."

"It wasn't—"

"Yes, it was!" he interrupted. "If it wa'n't for me, ya wouldn't've been leanin' forward like ya was."

"Bud, don't ya worry about that. We're both okay, that's what matters. You got out with a few cuts n I'm glad ya did."

"All the trouble b'tween us the last few months has been b'cause of me n I'm so sorry. I have to — ya don't get it. That's okay, ya don't have t' understand why I do it. Just — just don't tell me not to, Tolbert. _Please._"

"Why d'ya do it?" he asked softly, still rubbing the boy's back.

"I got to," Bud answered as though it was obvious. "And heck, Tol, maybe — maybe someone'll think I'm good enough if I do it. I mean, I'm not, but it'd be nice, y'know? T' have someone actually care n all."

"Bud, you _are _good enough. Ya don't have t' do this just t' prove that. I love ya n I care 'bout ya a whole lot. You ain't gotta practically kill yerself t' prove yer good enough when you already are. Heck, Bud, you're more than good enough."

"If — if I keep doin' all this right, maybe Mama n Poppy'd be proud. Lord knows I ain't ever done nothin' t' make 'em proud. They—they give me Poppy's name n I jus' mess it all up an' make 'em regret it. I just want t' be better."

"They're proud of ya, Buddy. I know they are. They don't regret givin' you Poppy's name. I don't think any of us deserves it more than you do," Tolbert forced a small smile.

Bud made a noise in the back of his throat and shook his head. That wasn't true. He didn't deserve to be Ran'l's namesake.

"You do, Buddy, you do. I promise ya that yer more than good enough."

"You ain't gonna kill me, are ya?" Bud muffled into his pillow.

"No, not today," Tolbert mused. "Maybe next time ya hide somethin' from me."

Bud let out a breathless laugh and turned his head to the side.

"Quit bein' so dramatic. We both know ya ain't gonna kill me."

"True. Can't kill my fav'rite brother. Life wouldn't be very fun without him in it."

"Ya know, you've always been my favorite," Bud stated matter-of-factly. "Even when we was into it n ya beat me up — which I deserved, by the way — you was always my fav'rite. Maybe that's why it bothered me s' much, I dunno."

"Ya didn't deserve it," Tolbert rolled his eyes.

"Kinda did."

"You really didn't."

"Whatever."

"I swear, Bud McCoy, I'm gonna slap you," Tolbert threatened.

"Oh, I'm so scared. Excuse me while I go sit in the corner and cry like a baby," Bud wittily remarked, earning an exasperated groan.

"It's a miracle you've lived as long as you have with that mouth of yours."

Bud laughed.

"Oh, like you have any room t' talk."

"Shut up!"

—

**_April 2018_**

"Hey, Tol, I know you're prob'ly really busy, but I need t' talk t' you. I—I jus' did somethin' that I don't think I should've. Call me back, please."

Bud hung up, trying to ignore the way his hands trembled. He'd locked himself in a stall after being called fat and a disgusting pig, and had forced himself to throw up. Bud had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he'd just done something terribly wrong.

He jumped when his phone started to ring.

"Hello?"

"Bud, what'd you do?" Panic was prominent in Tolbert's tone.

"I threw up. Forced m'self t' throw up," he corrected quickly. "I'm sorry."

"Why're ya doin' that, Bud?" Tolbert's tone softened, despite the fact Bud could hear the concern in his voice.

"They said I'm fat n I'm nothin' but a disgusting pig. I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. I'll come get ya, okay? Ya didn't drive t'day did ya?"

"No."

"Alright. I'll come get you n we'll do somethin'. Just — give me a minute, a'ight?"

"A'ight. I love you."

"I love you too."

—

Bud bit down on his lip as he walked beside Tolbert. Tolbert threw an arm around his shoulders, but he didn't say anything. He glanced at him and sighed.

"You know they're wrong, right?"

"I don't know," Bud answered, his voice cracking.

"Well, they are. You're fine the way ya are," Tolbert told him while they approached his beat-up pickup truck. (He'd managed to find one and took it, despite the outward appearance. It was a vehicle and it worked, so that was good enough for him.)

"I dunno, Tol," Bud shrugged, getting in the truck. "I can see their point."

"I can't."

"Then you need glasses or somethin'!"

"Bud, listen t' me, you're perfect the way ya are. Don't ya listen t' them, understand me? They're gonna do their best t' tear you down. They want t' hurt people like you."

"What d'ya mean by that?"

"You got a good heart n a good soul. They like tryin' t' hurt people like that. Ev'ryone's got a breaking point, and if they push you enough, you're gonna reach it an' you'll hit 'em back or somethin'. Then they can go 'round sayin' that you're just like them and people will believe them. 'Specially someone like William," Tolbert elaborated.

"I didn't tell you who said it," Bud said defensively.

"Ya didn't have to. I know how he is."

Bud was silent for a moment.

"I didn't eat much before I threw it away. I made myself throw up right after I did that. I just... I had this feelin' that I'd made a huge mistake an' I got scared. I don't mean to bother you."

"Ya don't bother me, Buddy. Ya wanna go get somethin' t' eat? Heck, we'll even get ice-cream if you want. No one'll stop us."

"Such a rebel," Bud joked, laughing at his older brother. "I don't know, Tol. I don't — I don't wanna make it no worse."

"Ya won't. Ya've got t' eat, Bud."

"I know." He hung his head, picking at a loose string on his shirt.

"Ya wanna go get somethin' t' eat? I'll take ya where ever ya wanna go."

"Yeah, sure. Ya won't stop 'til I say yes anyways."

Tolbert snorted.

"Where ya wanna go?"

"I don't care," he sighed, rubbing his temple.

"Alright."

—

Bud glanced up at Tolbert as he entered the office, quirking a brow.

"Whatcha want?" Bud asked, picking up the file on the desk.

"You on office duty?" Tolbert raised a brow.

"Yeah. Now whatcha want?"

"I was lookin' for you. Thought you had t'day off."

"Oh, I did," Bud replied quickly. "I did until Addie got sick n had t' go t' the doctor. Mama's in Pikeville with Trinnie and Fanny, so Poppy had t' take her. I got roped into working. Which, I don't care. That's a few extra bucks."

"True."

Bud got up, clicking his tongue while he pulled open a drawer and slid the file in its rightful place.

"Why're you lookin' for me?"

"Well, I had planned t' kidnap ya for a while."

"Ah. What for this time?"

"I'm bored outta my mind, Bud. I found every board game and card game I own with the intention of stealin' you long enough to play at least three of 'em."

"Mm... ya still have checkers? I'm real good at that."

"Yeah, I've still got it. And please, Bud, we both know I let you win the last time we played it."

"Oh, you did not!" Bud argued. "I won that fair n square!"

"I let you win," Tolbert repeated.

"No, ya didn't. Ya just don't want t' admit ya lost."

"Alright, soon as you get done here, you come t' my place. We'll see."

"Oh, it's on," Bud laughed.

—

Bud glanced up at Tolbert, his face expressionless. Tolbert moved his piece. Bud ducked his head to hide a smirk, moving his piece over Tolbert's and landing on the other end of the board. He took Tolbert's piece and stacked it on top of the others.

"I win."

"You cheated!"

"I did not! I won fair an' square."

"You cheated," Tolbert deadpanned.

"No, I won it fair n square," Bud countered. "That's how you play the game, Tol. Ain't my fault ya made the wrong move."

Tolbert wasn't amused. Bud breathed a laugh.

"Wanna do a rematch?"

"Yes, I want a rematch. _You cheated._"

"I did not!"


	9. Guardian Angel (Modern AU)

**_February 2006_**

Tolbert groaned as he made his way back up the stairs, entering the room that he shared with his baby brother. Bud had turned four years old a few months ago, and he hadn't gotten to do anything for his birthday. Tolbert felt horrible over it. He hadn't found a job in enough time to earn enough money to take the boy out.

You see, Tolbert and Bud were currently in the foster system. Their parents had died in an accident, and Tolbert had refused to leave his younger brother, who had been barely a year old when it happened. That was how they ended up in the house they were in now.

"Did he hurt ya 'gain?" Bud asked, crawling toward Tolbert as he approached the bed.

"Not too bad," Tolbert lied. "Don't ya worry none. It's okay."

Bud's brows furrowed as Tolbert slowly made his way to the other side of the bed, sitting down on the edge before taking his shirt off. He made a pained noise in the back of his throat before laying down, letting his little brother curl up against him. They shared a single quilt and a single bed, and Bud always curled up against Tolbert.

Tolbert always protected Bud to the best of his ability. He didn't want the little boy to get beaten for something he did, or just because John was in a bad mood and wanted to take his anger out on someone. Tolbert had taken more beatings than he could count the last few years, and he would keep taking them until John eventually kicked him out. Once he was eighteen, he could be kicked out and not a thing could be done about it.

"Y' sure?" Bud peered up at him innocently, his head resting on Tolbert's chest.

"Yeah, baby. I'm sure." Tolbert gently pulled his fingers through Bud's thick locks of honey-brown hair. Bud hummed and scooted closer to his brother.

"Get some sleep."

—

"Daddy! Daddy, wake up!" Bud shook Tolbert's arm that was wrapped around him. "_Please, _Daddy, wake up!"

Tolbert woke up, looking down at the little boy who was shaking his arm violently.

"Wha'?" Tolbert rasped, his voice deep and full of sleep.

"Daddy, 'm scared," Bud cried, laying his head on Tolbert's chest again.

Tolbert hadn't fully processed what Bud had said, and had started rubbing the boy's back out of pure instinct. Bud often woke up with nightmares — and always because he witnessed a part of the beating Tolbert received — and Tolbert was the only one who would comfort him. It was common knowledge that John wouldn't.

And after a few seconds, it finally clicked with him. He blinked a few times before looking down at the sniffling little boy, who was as close as he could possibly get.

"What'd you call me?" Tolbert asked softly, wanting to make sure he'd heard him right and hadn't been dreaming still.

"Daddy."

"Oh God," Tolbert breathed.

How was he supposed to tell a four-year-old that he wasn't his father? Bud didn't understand anything about death and Tolbert wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible; he didn't think a four-year-old child should know what death is.

"Somethin' wrong?" Bud gazed up at him, childlike innocence gleaming in his hazel eyes.

"No... Just — why d'ya think I'm yer Daddy?"

"Miss Hope says ev'ryone's got a Daddy. Says they love 'em n keep 'em safe, n you do that. Ain't you my Daddy?"

"No, Buddy. I'm not."

"Where's my Daddy?"

"Poppy's in Heaven with Mama," Tolbert answered tearfully. "They died when you was real little."

"What's that mean?"

"Means they ain't here with us no more. They went t' Heaven an' we're still here on Earth. We got our whole lives t' live."

"So... I don't have a Daddy?"

"Well, I mean, you do... he's just not here anymore."

"Oh..."

Tolbert held Bud close to him, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. He didn't like explaining things like that to Bud.

"So... so why's we here? Wit' John?"

"'Cause we're not old enough t' live on our own. What we're gonna do is live here as long as we have to. I promise ya that we'll get outta here."

—

**_June 2009_**

Seven-year-old Bud clung tightly to Tolbert, refusing to let him go. He didn't want Tolbert to leave — and quite frankly, Tolbert didn't want to leave Bud there. He'd spent the last seven years protecting Bud, and he couldn't very well do that if he wasn't there.

But Tolbert was a legal adult now, and John had told him he had to leave. He didn't necessarily want to leave his baby brother, but he didn't really have a choice in the matter. He had to leave.

"Don't leave. P-please, don't l-eave m-me!" Bud begged, burying his face in the crook of Tolbert's neck.

"I got to," Tolbert said softly, bringing his hands up to pry Bud's arms from around his neck. "Y' gotta stay here a lil while, but I promise ya, I'll getcha outta here. Might be a few weeks, might be a few months, heck, it might be a year, I don't know. But I promise you I'll get ya outta here, Buddy. I love you, baby."

Tolbert pressed a kiss to the little boy's forehead and hugged him tightly.

"I don't want ya t' go," Bud sobbed.

"I know, baby. I got to. It's okay."

"Don't leave, please, don't — don't leave me."

"Hey, hey, look at me," he instructed. Bud did as he was told. "It's gonna be okay. We're still gonna see each other, even if we have t' sneak t' do it. Everything's gonna be okay. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Next time I see you, hopefully, I'll be able t' tell ya if I can get you outta here or not. I'll talk t' Perry. Remember him?"

"Mhm," Bud nodded.

"He'll help me get ya outta here. I love you, Buddy."

—

**_October 2013_**

Bud sat on a park bench, drawing in a sharp breath while he shifted, trying to ease the pain. John had come home angry the night before — after the second day of the trial Tolbert had managed to get to try to gain legal custody of Bud — and had given him a beating and a berating he wouldn't forget for a long while.

Tolbert was late. He promised he'd meet him there — at the park across from the high school — after court was over for the day. He hadn't shown up yet, and Bud was fine with it. It gave him time to try to figure out how to hide how much pain he was really in.

"Hey, kiddo. I had t' make sure John wasn't followin' me — oh my God, what happened?!"

Bud looked up at Tolbert, painfully standing up and wrapping his arms around his brother. All he wanted was to be loved. Tolbert loved him; he trusted Tolbert, even though he was cautious when he was around him. He didn't want to do anything that might make Tolbert mad. Tolbert was the only person that he had and he didn't want to lose him.

"John was real mad when he came home," Bud muffled into Tolbert's chest. "Ya don't happen t' have somethin' for pain, do ya?"

"Got some ibuprofen in the truck. Don't you have any?" Tolbert asked, looking down at his baby brother.

"No. Ran out last week after he found out you n Perry want me t' testify."

"Why didn't you tell me? I woulda got ya some more."

"Didn't wanna bother ya," Bud admitted quietly. "Ya've been busy."

"I'm never too busy for you, kiddo."

"Not t' mention I've been watched like a hawk the last few days."

"Oh. C'mon, we gotta go anyways. We gotta go t' Walmart."

"What for?" Bud looked at him strangely.

"Bud, you can't go to court in a faded t-shirt and ripped blue jeans. Ya can't wear those worn-out tennis shoes neither."

"Oh. You know I can't take clothes home, Tol. He'll jus' rip 'em."

"That's why I'll keep 'em 'til I pick ya up t'morrow. You'll come t' my place first thing t'morrow mornin' an' take a shower an' get dressed. Then we'll go on t' the courthouse," Tolbert explained, leading his little brother to his pickup truck. "Get in. Ibuprofen's in the bag on yer seat."

"Thanks."

Tolbert rounded the truck and got in, starting the engine before buckling his seatbelt. Bud opened the box the bottle was in, pulling the bottle out while licking his chapped lips. He got it open and took two out, tightening the lid again before putting it back in the box. Bud took the medicine and grimaced before twisting to grab the seatbelt.

He whimpered and buckled it quickly, glancing over at Tolbert.

"Sorry."

"Quit apologizin'. You're fine. In case you forgot, I know exactly what yer goin' through, youngin."

"No, I ain't forgot," Bud muttered. "Ya took a lotta beatin's for me."

"Yeah, well, some of 'em was caused by me talkin'. I'm gettin' you outta that house. I'm gettin' tired of seein' you like this," Tolbert stated, pulling out onto the highway. "No twelve-year-old should rely on ibuprofen."

"Hey now, it's not just ibuprofen. Tylenol helps a lot too," Bud tried to make light of it. Tolbert huffed in amusement and shook his head. "What do I have t' wear t'morrow?"

"Somethin' like what I'm wearin'. We'll find ya a shirt that ya like an' some slacks n dress shoes."

Bud nodded slightly. He wasn't sure why, but he had a sinking feeling of dread. He closed his eyes and willed it away, shaking his head a little. He was just overreacting. Everything would be fine.

—

Tolbert snorted while Bud looked through the plethora of button-up shirts, watching the boy mumble under his breath with a distressed expression.

"Why're there so many?" Bud asked, looking over at Tolbert.

"Diff'rent colors n diff'rent sizes. Ya know what size ya wear?"

"Mhm."

"Just find one ya like," Tolbert told him, picking at a loose string on the cuff of his sleeve.

"I don't — Tol, these are all so expensive," he whispered, his eyes meeting his brother's.

"They're not that expensive, Bud. Quit worryin' 'bout how much they cost and pick one that you like."

"John's gonna kill me if he finds out about this."

"It ain't his money, so he has no reason t' complain. Here, you like this one?" Tolbert pulled a blue shirt off the rack.

"I don't know, Tol," Bud shrugged, averting his gaze. His stomach was twisting itself into knots and he honestly didn't know why.

"Hey," Tolbert said softly, hanging the shirt on the rack again before placing his hands on Bud's shoulders. "You're okay. What's your fav'rite color?"

"Red."

"C'mere," Tolbert led him over to a rack with red shirts, pulling one off and holding it up. "Yes? No? Maybe?"

Bud reached out, grabbing the sleeve and rubbing his thumb over the material. It didn't feel like it would be itchy... The material felt like a soft cotton and it didn't seem like it would irritate him. He chewed on his bottom lip, glancing at Tolbert and nodding before averting his gaze again.

"This the right size?" Tolbert handed it to him. Bud read the tag and nodded. "A'ight. C'mon, we gotta getcha some slacks n some shoes. Then we'll leave."

He followed Tolbert, who had to convince him to find a pair of slacks that he liked. And Tolbert helped him with it.

Bud never got to pick his own clothes. John always did it for him, and they were always too small and they didn't last long before they started fading or got a hole in them. The clothes he was wearing now were a fine example.

"You like these ones?" Tolbert's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"I — I don't know. I just... y-you know more 'bout this than me," he stuttered, wishing he could just bolt out of the store.

"Well... here, you like the material? You're gonna have t' wear these all day t'morrow. I don't want ya in somethin' that's gonna bother ya."

"Bother me?" Bud raised a brow.

"Mhm. Some of 'em 's made outta real itchy material. I don't want ya endin' up with a pair of those."

"O-oh."

Tolbert handed the slacks to Bud, who rubbed the material and pulled a face. He didn't want to say no, but they felt like they'd be extremely itchy.

"It's okay ta say no, Buddy. Just tell me if ya don't like it."

"I don't like these."

"There, see how easy that was? Come over here an' help me out, kid. You know what you want better than I do."

Bud hesitantly walked over to him, handing the slacks back to Tolbert. He put them in their rightful place before moving out of Bud's way.

"Y' sure ya don't care?" Bud glanced at him uneasily.

"I'm sure. I want you t' be comfortable t'morrow. It's gonna be a long day, and there's a good chance ya might have t' put these on again."

"Why?"

"Just in case they call ya back t' question you again. Sometimes it happens."

Bud hummed and picked up a different pair of slacks. They felt soft and seemed like they would be comfortable. He glanced at the tag and was pleased to see that it was his size. The downside? The price. He didn't want Tolbert spending so much money on him.

"Ya wanna tell me what's goin' on in that head of yours?" Tolbert asked.

"Why're you're doin' this for me?" Bud asked plainly.

"'Cause you need somethin' t' wear t'morrow," Tolbert responded.

"Yer gonna spend all this money on an outfit for _one day? _That — that just ain't right, Tol."

"Don't worry about the money. If I didn't want t' do this, I wouldn't be. You know how I am. I'm plain spoken an' don't care t' tell ya what I think. An' I think it's ridiculous you're worryin' about how much it costs."

"Tolbert—"

"_Bud,_" Tolbert shot him a look that told him to drop it.

Bud cast his eyes down and flinched. If he wasn't careful, he was going to make Tolbert mad. He couldn't afford to make Tolbert mad at him right now. He'd never seen Tolbert when he was mad — he didn't think the times he'd yelled at John counted — and he'd rather not see it the day before he went to court, thank you very much. He was nervous enough as it was.

"You like those ones?" Tolbert softened his tone.

"Yeah."

"C'mon then. One more thing t' get an' then we're outta here. Ya wanna go get somethin' t' eat after we're done? I'll take ya home like I always do."

"Tolbert, I don't want you wastin' your money on me."

"I ain't wastin' it. They're things you need, Bud."

Bud fell into pace beside Tolbert, his older brother throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"It's fine, Bud. When you move in with me, we're gonna have t' getcha some new clothes anyways. These are as old as the hills and they're too small on ya. Ya need clothes that'll fit ya."

"It jus' ain't right," Bud murmured. "Ya shouldn't have t' buy all this for me."

"Don't you worry 'bout it. I promise ya that if I didn't want to, we wouldn't be here right now. We'd still be sittin' at that park."

"I know. 'M sorry."

"Hey, don't apologize. Yer goin' through somethin' most people can't even imagine. I'm proud of ya, kid. Now, how 'bout we find ya a pair of dress shoes n get outta here?"

"Sounds good t' me."

—

**_November 2013_**

Bud looked up as Tolbert's truck stopped in front of him. He got up and got in the truck, closing the door and letting out a shaky breath.

"Hey, it's okay. Nothin's gonna happen t'day," Tolbert assured him, placing his hand on his knee.

"I'm really scared," Bud blurted, looking over at Tolbert. "What if this don't work out? What if they think I'm lyin' and leave me with him? He'll _kill me, _Tol!"

"Woah, Buddy, calm down. It's gonna be okay. No one's gonna think you're lying. You're twelve years old and you're covered in bruises. I think it's safe t' say you're gonna be believed."

"I'm scared."

"I know. I'm tryin' my hardest t' get you outta that house. You shouldn't be scared t' tell the truth t' people, Bud. But I understand how ya feel. I was that way when I lived there. Always too scared t' tell somebody what was goin' on. I was scared he might do somethin' to ya an'... God, I shoulda just told somebody."

"Then we woulda been separated," Bud pointed out.

"That's what kept me from doin' it. I couldn't be sure that you'd get placed in a better home so I kept my mouth shut. I can take care of you. Don't need no foster parent."

"Tolbert..."

"Hm?"

"What were they like?" Bud looked over at him.

"They were the best. Mama always knew what t' do an' say when one of us was upset or mad. Poppy was the same way, but he usually fixed the problem with a corny joke. He always told the corniest jokes an' we always laughed 'cause they were so bad ya couldn't help it. Poppy hadn't been home long when it happened. We were adjusting t' havin' him home again, 'cause it was always strange when he left. We'd have him home for a month or two an' he'd get sent off again.

"But the last time, he'd decided to retire. You were five months old when he first met ya, an—an' God, he loved you. He loved ya so much that even Mama said he spoiled ya. You were what kept him sane, I think. Takin' care of you took his mind off what he'd seen over there. Mama took care of ya the first five months of your life, an' when Poppy came home, she just gave up. He wouldn't wake her when ya woke up in the middle of the night cryin', so she jus' let him do it.

"Poppy n Mama loved all of us. They were the best people on the face of the earth. Had a lot of kids, too. There's seven of us altogether."

"_Seven?_" Bud gawked.

"Yeah. Jim, me, Alifair, Roseanna, Calvin, Pharmer, an' you. In that order."

Bud let out a little laugh.

"There was once Mama got real mad. Only time I remember seein' her mad, too. Poppy took off with you n Roseanna, didn't tell her where he was goin' or that he was even leavin'. Scared Mama outta her wits 'til Jim told her that he'd taken y'all somewhere. Poppy got a good talkin' to when he got home."

"They sound amazing."

"They were. I wish ya could remember 'em. You was just too young when they died."

"I'm the one that got Poppy's name?"

"Yeah. You'd make 'em real proud, darlin'."

"Why'd they give me Poppy's name?" Bud asked curiously.

"Reckon Poppy wanted one of his sons named after him. I don't really know the reason for it, but I'm assumin' that's it. Mama was shocked you were a boy. She swore ya was gonna be a girl. Even had a purdy name picked out for ya."

"Do I want t' know?"

Tolbert smirked in amusement.

"She was gonna name ya Penelope Jane McCoy. Ya best be thankful you was born a boy. Randolph McCoy, Junior's a lot better than Penelope Jane."

Bud scrunched his nose.

"You're kiddin'."

"I'm not," Tolbert laughed. "She said she'd always liked the name Penelope an' she wanted t' name you Penelope Jane. An' Poppy picked yer name if ya was a boy. That's the one ya ended up with."

Bud laughed a little as they pulled into Tolbert's driveway.

"I left the clothes in the spare room. That room's gonna be yours once we win this," Tolbert told him as he shut off the engine. "It's right across the hall from the bathroom. The first door you come to."

"You're really gonna let me live with ya?"

The idea of someone _wanting _Bud was something he couldn't fathom. He didn't understand why anyone would want him. He was always anxious, always a little too cautious, and he was always freaking out over something insignificant. He didn't see why anyone would want him.

"Nah. I'm plannin' on winnin' the case I've been pushin' for four years an' sendin' ya off t' military school," Tolbert drawled.

Bud shook his head and rolled his eyes before getting out. He'd never been to Tolbert's house; he always had to meet Tolbert in Pikeville after school, and he always lied, saying that he had things to do. It was the only way he could see his older brother.

Tolbert always patched him up and took him out to eat before taking him home. Tolbert bought him ibuprofen and Tylenol, and on occasion, he bought him different medicine as well. Bud didn't get sick very often, but when he did, he was down for days. Sometimes he was down for a couple of weeks.

He was never allowed to go to the doctor though. He had to suck it up and go to school, no matter how sick he was. He'd met Tolbert a few times while he was sick, and Tolbert always told him that he needed to be home, in bed, resting until he got better. Bud always countered with, "Tol, I would if I could. John won't let me, you know that. I jus' have t' suck it up n deal with it."

And Tolbert always thought that was a terrible attitude to have about it.

But Tolbert didn't have a say over Bud then. Once Bud testified and the judge made his decision, Tolbert hoped he'd be able to keep the boy home when he was sick. Bud didn't need to be out in public when he looked like a personification of death.

He jumped when Tolbert put his hand on his shoulder, his head whipping toward his older brother with wide, frightened eyes.

"It's just me. Ya wanna go in now? We have t' be there b'fore nine."

Bud nodded silently. His stomach was already twisting itself into knots and he knew it was going to get worse by the time they actually got to the courthouse.

He followed Tolbert inside, looking around the second they entered. It was a nice place; nicer than any house Bud had ever seen. Then again, he'd only seen John's, so he didn't really have much to go by.

"C'mon, down this way. That's the kitchen right there." Tolbert pointed to the room off to the left as he walked by it. "Then this here's the livin' room."

It was off to the right and a little further down. Bud followed his brother, glancing at each room as they passed by them.

"This is your room. Soon as we win this case, we'll find ya whatever ya want for it. It's empty n bare right now, don't even have a bed 'cause I want you t' find the one you want. And if we win this today, I reckon you'll be sleepin' in my room."

Bud only nodded.

"Clothes are right there. I'll go getcha some towels."

Tolbert left, leaving the boy alone for a moment. He returned with two towels and a washcloth, handing them to Bud.

"You take hot or cold showers?"

"Cold. John says I can't take hot ones."

"Well... you take a hot shower if you want to. I don't care. C'mere, I'll show ya where everything is."

Tolbert opened the door and flicked on the light.

"Shampoo's on that shelf right there. I... need to get a new bar of soap, one second."

He turned and opened the medicine cabinet, pulling out a box and ripping it open. He dumped the bar of soap into his hand and set it on one of the shelves.

"Soap's right there. Take as long as ya want, we got time. It's not even eight yet. I'll be in the livin' room, a'ight?"

"A'ight."

—

After taking a hot shower (he was pretty sure he'd stood there for ten minutes just savoring the warmth), Bud dressed and went to the living room.

Tolbert was sitting on the couch, playing on his phone. He nervously rubbed his hands together, trying to quench the anxiety that he felt. His heart was thundering against his rib cage, and he feared it might burst through his skin. His stomach was twisted in knots and felt full of butterflies, and his palms were sweaty. Bud wanted to curl up and disappear.

"Dang, Bud. You look nice," Tolbert smiled at him. Bud forced a smile. "Ever gelled your hair?"

Bud shook his head. Tolbert motioned for him to come over to him, so he did. Tolbert scooted over so Bud could sit down and grabbed the hair gel.

"It won't get frizzy when it dries this way. Ya gel it an' the gel keeps it down."

Tolbert slicked Bud's hair back, giving the boy a small smile.

"Ya look real handsome," Tolbert complimented.

Bud lowered his gaze, quietly mumbling, "Thanks?"

"It's a compliment," Tolbert assured him, patting his shoulder. "You wanna go now?"

Bud only nodded. The sooner they left, the sooner it was over.

—

"Hey, Perry!" Tolbert called out, waving to someone in the parking lot. Bud stood next to him, uneasily shifting his weight from foot to foot while he feigned interest in the ground. He didn't want to be there.

"Tolbert, you're here early," the man — Perry — remarked as he approached. "This is..."

"Bud. He's... shy," Tolbert managed to make an excuse. "Hey, look at me."

Bud lifted his gaze, his hazel eyes meeting his brother's ice blue ones.

"I figured ya'd wanna meet one of the men that's gonna be questionin' you. This is Perry Cline. He's my lawyer," Tolbert introduced him. Bud's eyes flicked to the man, finding a man who was a little shorter than Tolbert with dark hair and dark eyes. "Perry, this is my brother Bud. Well... Randolph Junior, really, but he's called Bud."

"Nice t' meet you, Bud," Perry smiled, extending his hand. Bud flinched away from him. "I'm not gonna hurt ya. It's a handshake."

Bud slowly extended his hand, taking Perry's and shaking it.

"Are you sure you're okay with this? I have no idea what the other lawyer will ask you, but I promise I'll object the second he gets out of line."

Bud nodded mutely. He was fine.

"If this goes the way I perceive it will, boys, Bud will be outta harm's way by the end of the day."

—

Bud had been called to testify. He was shaking like a leaf and tried not to look in John's direction while he swore he'd tell nothing but the truth, so help him God. He took his seat and Perry rounded the table, approaching the stand.

"Your name is Randolph McCoy, Junior, correct?"

"Y-yes. Most people call me Bud, though."

"May I call you Bud?"

"Sure."

"Relax, Bud. No one's gonna hurt ya."

Bud couldn't stop his eyes from flicking over to John, who was glaring at him. Bud gulped and averted his gaze.

"Do you know my client, Bud?" Perry questioned. Bud pulled a face.

"Yeah. He's my brother, Tolbert."

"And what about the defendant?"

"The what?" Bud looked completely confused.

"The man sitting right over there," Perry clarified, pointing toward the table John sat at.

"Yes. That's my... foster parent."

"What's his name?" Perry pressed.

"John Collins."

"Alright, so you know both personally. How long have you lived with John?"

"Eleven years," Bud recited.

"How old are you?"

"Twelve."

"You were quite young when you moved in with him. Was your brother with you then?"

"Yes. He was there until his eighteenth birthday," Bud answered.

"When was that?"

"June sixteenth, 2009."

"What was life like before then?"

Bud looked down.

"Better than it is now. Tol took a lotta beatin's meant for me, an—an' he took a lotta beatin's 'cause he took up for me, too. He would — he would sneak an' let me have a hot bath rather than a cold one. He always lied n said I took cold baths, but I never did. Tolbert worked a lot of odd jobs before he turned sixteen. He'd take me out on my birthday an' always apologized 'cause he could only afford t' take me t' Hardee's or somethin' like it."

He paused and swallowed thickly.

"Tolbert always got me what I needed. He didn't — he didn't care what John said. He got me clothes an' food, an—an' he got me whatever I needed for school."

"Did the defendant ever hit your brother in front of you?"

"Yes," Bud answered swiftly.

"Can you tell me about that?"

"There was once when I was five. I accidentally broke a glass or somethin' an' Tolbert took the blame for it. He told me ta go upstairs t' our room n stay there. I didn't. I came back down when I heard him scream, and I hid in a corner. John beat him, kicked him, was screamin' insults at him. Tolbert was a bloody mess when John fin'lly stopped."

He could see the way Tolbert's face fell and he paled. But he kept talking.

"Tolbert just laid there a minute, an' I stayed where I was 'til I was sure John wa'n't gonna come back. I went up to 'im an' he told me he was okay. That was the first time John broke Tolbert's nose."

Tolbert bit down on his lip and shook his head. He remembered that beating; it wasn't easy hiding it. His eyes focused on Bud, who looked like he just wanted to bolt from the stand.

"Did John ever hit you while your brother lived there?" Perry continued with his questioning.

Bud glanced at Tolbert, then at John, then at Tolbert again.

"Yeah," he answered quietly. "He did."

"Can you tell me what happened then?"

"Tolbert was at school. He made me stay home 'cause I was sick, an—an' he told me not to make a sound so John wouldn't know it. John didn't care if I was sick or not, he made me go t' school. So I tried t' be quiet. John came in the room an' he found me, and... and he hit me. He hit me real hard across my face an' Tolbert found out about it when he came home."

"What happened then?"

"Tolbert set the bag down — he'd gone t' Dollar General or somethin' and gotten some medicine with the little money he had — and he came over t' me. He asked me what happened an' I told him. He took me in the bathroom and rubbed some kinda cream on my face b'fore puttin' me back t' bed an' tellin' me t' stay put. He went downstairs and confronted John about it. Tolbert came back a lil while later with a split lip and a black eye. His hand was bleedin', too."

"His hand?" Perry blinked.

"Yeah."

"Alright. What happened after Tolbert moved out?"

"I had to start sneakin' t' see him. John wouldn't let me."

"Why not?"

"Said I didn't need t' see him no more," Bud shrugged.

"Did he ever give you a reason?"

"Just that I didn't need t' see him."

"Nothing else?"

"No."

"How did you meet with your brother?"

"I would say I have t' stay after school. We met in the park across from the high school."

"And what did you do?" Perry queried, pacing the floor.

"He'd patch me up if need be, and he'd take me out t' eat."

"That's what you did every time you met up?"

"All except last time," Bud nodded.

"What did you do last time?"

"He took me t' get these clothes."

"Why?"

He glanced at Tolbert, who nodded slightly.

"Didn't have nothin' I could wear t' court," Bud admitted.

"When was this last meeting?"

"Yesterday."

He flinched when he heard John's hand smack against the table he was sitting at.

"How do you communicate with your brother?" Perry asked.

"He got me a cellphone for Christmas last year. I call him and text him most of the time, but there's times — usually two or three times a month — when we meet up at the park."

"A cellphone? So he knows when you've gotten a beating, then?"

"Usually. Sometimes I won't tell 'im 'cause I don't wanna bother him none."

"Mm..." Perry hummed, pacing and turning on his heel toward Bud. "When was the last time you received a beating?"

Bud hung his head. No one told him he'd have to answer that.

"Like... like a really bad one?"

"A really bad one," Perry nodded.

Bud stayed silent for a moment. Oh God, did he really have to answer it? He looked up at Tolbert, who gave a slight nod of encouragement.

"Last week. Tuesday, t' be precise. It was the day he found out I was asked t' testify."

"And one that wasn't really bad?"

"Two days ago."

"What happened with that?" Perry pressed.

"I don't know; he just came home mad," Bud said hurriedly. He wanted to get off the stand and run.

"Just a few more questions, I assure you. Has your brother Tolbert ever hit you?"

"No!" Bud exclaimed, giving Perry a strange look.

"Has he ever been mad at you?"

"Not that I remember."

"Has he ever harmed you in any way? With words, actions, things like that?"

"No! Tolbert ain't ever done a thing t' me!"

"No further questions, your honor."

"Cross-examine, Mr. Greene?" Judge Wagner looked toward the other lawyer.

"Yes, your honor."

Bud gulped. He was in for it; he _knew_ he was in for it. John was going to kill him when they got home.

"Now, Bud — that is your name, right?"

"Yes."

"Great. Bud, you admitted to lying to my client, Mr. Collins, on more than one occasion. Could it be that you're lying about everything else too?"

"No!"

"I don't see any bruises. No cuts, no scratches, nothing that can prove what you've said," the man countered.

Bud tightly gripped the arms of the chair he was in. Oh God, it was going downhill and it was going downhill _fast._

"Did your brother tell you t' say all this?" Mr. Greene accused.

"N-no! Tolbert wouldn't ever—"

"Did he or did he not ask you t' testify t'day?"

"He did, but that don't mean nothin'! He's jus' tryin' t' help."

"Help? On the contrary, he's draggin' you into a losing battle," he smirked. "Now, if you were sick the time you stayed at home from school, when my client allegedly hit you, why didn't you go to the doctor?"

"John won't let me go. He says I'm bein' a baby an' I should suck it up and deal with it."

"That so? Well, John says that you've gone to the doctor several times while being in his care."

"No, I haven't," Bud denied, getting irritated.

"Now... You say your brother patches you up when you meet up. Is it not possible that it's just because you're being bullied and won't admit to that?"

"Objection!" Perry called out, standing up.

"Overruled. Answer the question, please," Judge Wagner stated.

"N-no. Jus' 'cause I am bein' bullied don't mean nothin'."

"Ah, but it does. Does the bully ever hit you?"

"No."

"No? Well, last week, John claims he got a call from the school. _On Tuesday._"

"No, he did not," Bud said shakily.

"So you're sayin' my client is lying?"

"Yes."

The man sighed and shook his head.

"My client is an honest man. He says that everything you have said while sitting in that chair is a lie. Can you prove that he hit you two days ago?"

"Yes," Bud nodded without a second thought.

"_How? _There's not a thing on you," Mr. Greene laughed.

"But — it's hidden under the shirt," Bud stammered. He wasn't lying, he wasn't.

"Prove it."

"_Objection!_" Perry yelled. "He can't make Bud take his shirt off in court!"

"Sustained. Stop heckling the boy, Greene."

Bud glanced at Tolbert, meeting his eyes. Tolbert shook his head slightly.

"Are you scared, Bud?" Mr. Greene drawled.

"A little," Bud answered honestly.

"Do you lie when you're scared?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Well, I reckon it's got somethin' t' do with the fact I'm a terrible liar," Bud shrugged. He heard Tolbert breathe a laugh, as well as Perry.

"You're a terrible liar?" he repeated. "Why do you adamantly sweat my client has abused you, then?"

"Because he has," Bud murmured, his voice trembling. "I wouldn't be here if he didn't."

Mr. Greene frowned.

"You're lying, Bud, admit it. You say that you can prove that he hit you, but you won't. Isn't it only right to—"

"Objection! That is speculation and has no proof."

"Sustained. Quit tryin' t' make him confess t' your speculation, Mr. Greene."

"Alright. Where were you last night, Bud?"

"At home."

"Before you went home, I mean?"

"Went t' Walmart with Tolbert."

"What for?"

"I told ya already. T' get these clothes."

"Are ya sure that's why you were there? You wasn't out plotting what you were gonna say t'day when you showed up?"

"No!" Bud blurted. He started to ramble, "Tolbert wouldn't ever ask me t' lie. John's hit me more times than I can count an' ya can't make me say he didn't 'cause he _did. He did! _I can prove it, too! I've got 'nough bruises t' prove that he did it!"

"Bruises don't mean a thing," Mr. Greene countered. "You could have easily gotten bruises from someone else and you won't admit to that. So I'll ask one more question. Why are you lying?"

"I'm not lyin'!" Bud sobbed. It was too much, it was all too much. He'd never felt so overwhelmed in his life. "I'm n-ot lyin'!"

Mr. Greene sighed heavily.

"No further questions, your honor."

"You wish to cross-examine again, Mr. Cline?"

"No, your honor. I request we let this witness go."

—

Bud sat outside the courtroom, waiting for Tolbert and Perry. He hung his head and tapped his foot, trying to suppress the fear that he felt.

He had no doubt he'd probably made it worse for their case when he started crying, but he couldn't help it. Bud had never felt so stupid in his life and it was all so overwhelming. He'd told the truth, why did he have to keep insisting that he lied?

"Bud... Judge Wagner wants t' speak with you," Perry spoke softly, startling the boy. "He said Tolbert can go in there with ya, if that would make you more comfortable."

Bud nodded and stood up, following Perry inside the courtroom. He walked up to the door behind the witness stand, where Tolbert was standing, and followed him back to the judge's office.

"You want me t' stay?" Tolbert asked. Bud nodded swiftly. "It's okay. Calm down a little."

Tolbert rubbed Bud's shoulder before moving so he could enter Judge Wagner's office.

"Bud. I hate to do ya this way, but I do need some type of proof that he has abused you."

Bud didn't say a word. He only looked to Tolbert, who nodded slightly. Bud untucked his shirt and unbuttoned it, sliding it off of his shoulders to reveal the oversized wifebeater he wore under it, along with a plethora of bruises.

"Oh my God."

"It's worse under this one," Bud admitted, pulling at the wifebeater.

"You don't have to take that one off," Judge Wagner spoke quickly. He'd seen enough to make a decision. "I think I've heard and seen plenty. You can go back t' wherever you were if you want to."

Bud put his shirt back on and tucked it in, letting Tolbert lead him out of the office.

"So... you wanna stick around inside the courtroom or go back outside?"

"Outside."

"Alright. I'll be there as soon as I can be. I'm right proud of ya."

"Why? I... surely I messed it all up. I—I started cryin'."

"You were talkin' about somethin' traumatic," Tolbert told him, pulling him into a hug. "I'm real proud of ya, Buddy. Ya told the truth. That's all I asked for."

"I'm sorry," Bud sniffled.

"It's okay. You answered every question, Bud. I'm proud of you. You can go on out if you want to. I won't make ya stay in here."

Bud wrapped his arms around Tolbert, hugging him tightly.

"I'm really scared," he whispered.

"I know you are," Tolbert let the volume of his voice drop. "I don't think we have t' worry about anythin', though."

"John's gonna kill me."

"John ain't gonna kill you. I'll let ya come t' my place if this goes on for another day. I won't let you go there if ya think he's gonna seriously hurt you."

"What if he finds out where I am an' hurts both of us? I don't want you gettin' hurt 'cause of me," Bud sobbed into Tolbert's chest.

"That's why we have 911 and guns. When you're with me, my top priority is yer safety. I don't care 'bout nothin' but you bein' safe."

"I don't — I don't want you gettin' hurt 'cause of me."

"I know. We're gonna see how this goes first, okay? Then we'll make a decision."

"Okay," Bud agreed softly, nodding his head.

"Don't ya worry none. It's gonna be alright."

"I love you, Tolbert."

"I love you too."

—

Bud anxiously tapped his foot while he waited for Tolbert. What he didn't expect was for his older brother to come out of the courtroom and pull him off of the bench he was sitting on, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

"We won," he whispered in Bud's ear.

"We—we what?" Bud stammered, his arms wrapping around Tolbert.

"_We won,_" he repeated. "You ain't gotta go back there. Well, I mean, you've gotta get yer stuff, obviously, but ya know what I mean. You're my kid now."

Bud sobbed in relief and clung to Tolbert. He nuzzled against the crook of Tolbert's neck, not minding it while Tolbert rubbed his back. Bud took a step back, wiping his tears.

"Y-ya mean it?"

"Yeah, Buddy. I mean it."

"Oh my God, we—we really won? Ya ain't lyin'?"

"No, I ain't lyin'," Tolbert chuckled. "You wanna go now?"

Bud nodded. It was going to be a good day.

—

"You want me t' go in with ya?" Tolbert asked as he parked in John's driveway.

"Nah, I won't be in there long. Twenty minutes tops," Bud forced a small smile.

"Alright. If you ain't out in twenty minutes, I'm comin' in."

"Fine by me. Be right back."

—

Tolbert hadn't taken his eyes off of the clock. Time ticked by slowly, and the longer Bud was in the house, the more Tolbert started to panic. So when twenty minutes had passed, Tolbert was out of the truck and making his way to the dilapidated front porch.

Hearing a scream, Tolbert hurried inside. He glanced around, not finding anything at first. So he closed the door and made his way to the living room.

"No, stop, please! _Stop! _Let me go! Let me go!"

He stopped when he saw John whipping his brother with a belt, the shirt ripped and his skin tore open. John was holding Bud up by one arm and was whipping him as hard as he possibly could.

Tolbert felt nothing but rage and rushed in, shoving John away from Bud.

"Don't ya touch him!"

"You stay outta this," John growled.

"No. He's in my care now, s' you leave him alone."

Tolbert turned toward Bud, who whimpered while laying in a heap on the floor. Tolbert bent over, gently grasping his arm to help him to his feet. Tolbert grunted when the belt hit his back.

"Tol..."

"Shh... it's okay. Stand up, kiddo."

Bud was pretty sure it was _not _okay, but he did as he was told anyway. He grabbed his tattered backpack and a black garbage bag.

"Ready t' go?"

Bud nodded swiftly. Tolbert led him out, ignoring the stinging sensation in his back. It had been a while since he dealt with it, but it hadn't been so long that he'd forgotten what it felt like to get whipped.

They made it out of the house, Bud hurrying to the truck and getting in. Tolbert got in and turned the key, closing the door while he grabbed his seatbelt.

"Are you okay?"

"Not the worst he's ever done. Woulda been if you hadn't come in." Bud sucked in a sharp breath and shifted. He buckled his seatbelt and looked over at Tolbert. "Thanks, I guess. I'm sorry you got it again."

"Don't worry about me. I'm twenty-two, I can handle gettin' hit with a belt. You, on the other hand, shouldn't be getting hit with a belt. I mean... there's discipline and then there's abuse. That was abuse. Now... how bad did he hurt ya?"

"'Bout as bad as it was when he found out you asked me t' testify. It'll heal."

"That's a terrible attitude," Tolbert remarked, pulling out of the driveway. "Tell ya what... we get home, I'll clean ya up, then I'll try t' make ya somethin' t' eat."

"You cook?"

"I do. I'm not the best, but I can put a decent meal on the table."

"Sounds fine t' me. A meal's better than no meal at all."

Tolbert glanced at him, his eyes full of sympathy. He knew what Bud went through; Tolbert had gone through it himself. He would just make sure John never hurt Bud again. And he'd have to help Bud heal. There wasn't any possible way the boy could get out of that situation without some sort of trauma.

"Is it really over?"

"Yeah, Buddy. I'm not gonna lie to ya."

"Oh my God... y-ya ain't kiddin'? I really ain't gotta go back?"

"No, Buddy. You're gonna live with me. Tomorrow, we'll go see what ya want for your room. Getcha a bed and a dresser at the very least so you have somewhere t' sleep and put your clothes. Do any of your clothes even fit you?"

"Meh," he held his hand up and shook it a little. "Kinda fifty-fifty."

"Fifty-fifty? By that, I mean are they like the ones ya got on now?"

"Oh. Then no, not at all."

Tolbert sighed.

"Well... I reckon I can find ya a t-shirt an' some pants t' sleep in t'night. I figure we're gonna be a little too busy tryin' t' clean all these nice gashes t' actually go out anywhere."

Bud laughed a little and shook his head. Tolbert always had the ability to take something serious and make light of it. Bud didn't mind it; it usually made him feel better when Tolbert did it. Tolbert had an amazing sense of humor and the ability to think up a joke in less than five seconds. The most Bud could do — on days he was braver than usual — was make a witty remark.

He was nothing like his older brother. Tolbert stood up for himself and only took a beating when it would keep Bud safe. Bud didn't stand up for himself and just took the beatings before making his way to his room, where he cried himself to sleep. Tolbert didn't care to tell John what he thought while Bud tried his best to avoid the man at all costs. He and his brother were nothing alike.

And maybe Bud shouldn't've thought about it. Maybe he should have just focused on anything but that, but he hadn't, and now he was scared that Tolbert would eventually figure that out and he wouldn't want him anymore.

If Tolbert didn't want him, did that mean he'd have to go back to living with John?

He hoped not. Bud would rather live on the streets than live with John. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, but if Tolbert ever found out how Bud just took the beatings without putting up a fight, he would probably tell him that he didn't want him. And Bud wouldn't blame him. Who would want someone who just took a beating?

—

Bud yelped and jerked away from Tolbert, letting out a shaky breath.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," Tolbert assured him, gently pressing the cloth to the wound again. "You sure ya don't wanna go t' the doctor just in case?"

"Yeah. Don't — don't want no one knowin' 'bout it," Bud sniffled, hissing when Tolbert moved to another gash. "_Ow! _D'ya have t' be so rough?!"

"Sorry," Tolbert winced.

Bud closed his eyes, his hands tightly gripping the blanket. Tolbert had said it would be easier to do it in his room, since there was more space there than there was in the bathroom. So Bud agreed to it and did what he was told. He didn't want to risk making Tolbert mad, and he really hadn't meant to snap at him. It just hurt a lot more than Bud thought it would.

"S-sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't — I didn't mean t' snap."

"Don't apologize. If it hurts, I want you t' tell me. I don't wanna hurt ya, Bud."

Bud swallowed thickly. He was off to a bad start. Already he'd caused Tolbert to get in the way of a beating and he'd snapped at him. If he kept this up, Tolbert wouldn't want him at all, and he'd see that John was right — that Bud was a terrible person who deserved everything he got.

"I'm gonna put some medicine on it. It might burn a bit, okay?" Tolbert spoke softly.

"Uh-huh," Bud nodded slightly, keeping his head down low. His throat constricted while he fought against his tears. He'd cried enough for one day. Heck, he'd cried enough for an entire year.

Bud bit down harshly on his lip when Tolbert rubbed the cream on his back, his breathing a little deeper than normal while he tried to keep from crying out. It burned and Bud just wanted it to stop burning. The burning added with the pain he already had made it almost unbearable.

He felt a gauze pad on his left shoulder and heard Tolbert rip a piece of the tape he'd bought for it. That didn't hurt too bad, but the cotton gauze rubbed against the gash while Tolbert tried to tape it in place.

And while Tolbert hurried to bandage the other gashes on Bud's back, he could hear the way the boy was trying his best not to cry. He stopped for a second, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He didn't mean to hurt him.

He bandaged the last gash on Bud's back before moving to his left, glancing at his little brother before focusing on the gash on his side.

"I want ya t' tell me if I hurt ya. Scream at me if ya want, I don't care, just _tell me,_" Tolbert told him, taking a damp washcloth and gently pressing it to Bud's side. Bud gasped and jerked. "Sorry, sorry."

Tolbert started to gently clean the wound, glancing at Bud. The boy tightly clenched the blanket while Tolbert cleaned the wound, his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth clenched. Bud grunted while Tolbert rubbed some of the medicine on it, hissing when it started to burn.

"After I get this done, I'll find ya somethin' t' change into. T-shirt and shorts sound okay?"

"Yeah."

"Hold this there, 'kay?"

Bud nodded and did as he was told, holding the gauze pad against his side. He looked at Tolbert, who looked exhausted, but took care of Bud without complaint.

"Here, move your hand, darlin'," Tolbert mumbled.

Bud did, watching as Tolbert put the tape on each side of the gauze pad. Tolbert got up, grabbing the creams and bandages he'd brought into the room before hurrying over toward the dresser. He set it on top of it and bent down, opening one of the drawers.

"Here ya go, baby. I'll go getcha some pain meds while ya change. You want somethin' t' drink?"

"I... sure," Bud mumbled, not wanting to tell his brother no.

"You want a Gatorade? I got the kind you like."

"Yeah... I-I guess so. I mean, I can go get—"

"You change int' those clothes right there. I'll get it while you do that, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, averting his gaze.

"Hey, look at me." Bud lifted his gaze, meeting Tolbert's. Tolbert gently cupped his face. "I don't care to. Ya don't have t' fend for yourself anymore. I'm gonna help you n I'm gonna take care of ya. That's my job."

"I know," Bud whispered.

"You're a good kid, Buddy. You've still got your cellphone, so call me anytime ya need me or just wanna talk. Lord knows Jim won't care if he knows it's you. He gave me t'day and t'morrow off, an' I'm gonna make it up next week. An' _you _are gonna stay home from school t'morrow. We got too much t' do."

"Really?"

"Mhm. We gotta getcha a bed n a dresser, and we gotta get ya some clothes that fit you. We'll get whatever you want. If you want boring colored t-shirts, we'll get those. If you want some flannels, we'll get 'em. It's what you want n nothin' else. A'ight?"

"A'ight."

"Good. I'll be back in a few minutes." Tolbert planted a kiss on his baby brother's cheek. "Change while I'm gone."

—

When Tolbert came back, he burst into laughter the second he saw his brother.

"Oh my Lord, I didn't think it'd be that big on ya."

Bud laughed a little and winced, eyes still alight with amusement as Tolbert crossed the room. He gave the boy two pills, which he took quickly, washing it down with the Gatorade Tolbert brought with him.

"Dang, you practically swim in that shirt."

"Shut up," Bud grumbled. The shirt was baggy and went down to his knees; honestly, it looked like a dress on him. Bud took another sip of his Gatorade, closing his eyes when Tolbert started to gently rub his face. He leaned into his brother's touch, humming in contentment.

Tolbert sat down beside him, chuckling when the boy leaned against him, nuzzling against his shoulder.

"You wanna go watch a movie or somethin'? It's not even dark yet."

"Sure. Ain't watched a movie in a long while."

"Why not?"

"John wouldn't let me. Said I didn't deserve t' be able t' watch movies."

"He's a jerk," Tolbert rolled his eyes. "C'mon, youngin'. Let's get ya in the livin' room. We'll get somethin' t' eat too."

—

Bud had fallen asleep not too long after eating the bowl of macaroni and cheese that Tolbert had made for him, which was all Bud had said that he wanted. He set the bowl on the coffee table before stretching his legs out on it, wrapping his arms around Tolbert and placing his head on his chest. Tolbert absentmindedly pulled his fingers through Bud's thick locks of honey-brown hair.

Tolbert had offered to get up and get the boy a blanket before he fell asleep, but Bud had refused. He claimed that he was comfortable the way he was, and Tolbert had no problem believing it while he listened to his little brother snore softly.

Tolbert didn't mind the boy going to sleep so early. He had no doubt that Bud had trouble sleeping while he lived with John, and he wouldn't stop him from going to sleep if he wanted to.

Jim came in the living room, Pharmer and Calvin trailing behind him. He'd adopted both of them after getting out of the system, and he'd raised them on his own.

"How'd the trial go?" Jim asked softly, sitting down beside his brother.

"We won," Tolbert beamed.

"I'm glad ya did. Is he okay?"

"Well, he's sleepin' right now. He did real good t'day. I thought that maybe John would threaten him t' the point he'd lie or somethin', but he didn't. He told the truth an' he even showed Judge Wagner some of the bruises. I ain't ever seen no one as scared as he was when he was on that stand."

"That's our brother?" Calvin pointed to him. Tolbert hummed and nodded. "Why's he wearin' a dress?"

"He's not wearin' a dress," Tolbert rolled his eyes. "He's wearin' one of my shirts and a pair of shorts. None of his clothes fit him right."

"You took him out yesterday and got him somethin' that did, didn't ya?" Jim quirked a brow.

"I had to. He couldn't go t' court in a faded t-shirt and ripped blue jeans. So I took him out last night n got him a button-up, some slacks, n some dress shoes. Which, the shirt's been ruined already."

"How so?" Pharmer piped up.

"I took him back so he could get his stuff. I promised him I'd give him twenty minutes before I went in. When I did go in, I found John beatin' him with a belt in the living room. The shirt was ripped and he's got a few gashes on him now, but he's okay."

"Don't ya think ya need t' take him t' the doctor over that?" Pharmer looked a little uncomfortable.

"No. I took care of it."

"How would—_oh!_" Pharmer cried out when Calvin elbowed his ribs. "_Oh. _Never mind."

Jim couldn't help but laugh at him. Tolbert shook his head and rolled his eyes. He looked down at Bud, who was sleeping soundly, almost like he didn't have a care in the world.

"Y'know... he thought he hurt the case when he started cryin' while that other lawyer was questionin' him. He kept tryin' t' make it out like I told Bud what t' say and that Bud was lyin'. Bud got s' overwhelmed he jus' started cryin'. Kid was a nervous wreck anyways, I don't see why he had t' make it worse for him. Ask yer dumb questions n sit down. Don't keep pushin' a twelve-year-old kid ta give you the answer ya want."

"Well, he was s'pposed t' be defending John," Jim pointed out.

"He took it too far," Tolbert said quietly. "Bud's shirt was long-sleeved, so ya couldn't see the bruises on his arm. He didn't have the ones on his face n neck then since the ones from two days ago had faded, an' he told Bud that there wasn't any proof of what he'd said. Bud told him it was under his shirt — that's where most of the damage was. John won't hit yer face too much. Makes it look suspicious. Anyway, he told Bud t' prove it. Perry objected to it, obviously, but... he took Bud's fear and used it against him."

"I don't think anyone should pick on a twelve-year-old like that," Jim muttered, scratching the side of his face. "He's an innocent child."

"Yeah, he is," Tolbert nodded in agreement. "Perry had t' explain what a defendant was while he was on the stand. I thought he was still allowed t' watch tv, ya know? So I figured he'd ended up watchin' one of the crime shows n knew what everything was."

"Ya mean he didn't tell ya?"

"No," Tolbert breathed a sigh. "Lord only knows what John said he'd do to 'im if he ever told anyone."

Bud whimpered as his eyes fluttered open, his grip slightly tightening on Tolbert's middle. He lifted his gaze and met Tolbert's, not saying a word while Tolbert scratched his scalp gently. Bud exhaled deeply through his nostrils, nuzzling closer. Tolbert laughed quietly, continuing to scratch the boy's scalp.

"Ya like that?"

"Mhm."

"Glad ya do."

"Mmm..."

Bud bent his legs a little and shifted, nuzzling his face against Tolbert's chest. He let his eyes close, and hummed when Tolbert gently rubbed his face as he had earlier. He could hear Tolbert giggle, but he paid him no mind. It had been a long while since Bud had been touched without getting hurt, not including the times he met up with Tolbert. Well... this was the first time in a long while he hadn't gotten hurt at home.

_Home. _Even the prospect of being in a different home was unfathomable. It was strange to think that he wouldn't be hurt anymore; that as long as he didn't make Tolbert angry, he would be fine.

"You wanna go t' bed?" Tolbert queried.

"Mhm..." he hummed groggily.

"A'ight. Here, move your arm."

Tolbert sat up and scooped Bud into his arms, standing and making his way out of the living room. He carried him to his room, gently laying him on his bed. Bud whined when Tolbert gently pried his arms away from him before pulling the covers over him.

"Get some sleep, baby," Tolbert murmured, combing Bud's hair back and planting a soft kiss on his forehead. "Love you."

"Love y' too."

—

Tolbert and Jim had started a game of checkers. They sat on the floor on either side of the coffee table while Calvin and Pharmer sprawled on the couch, laughing when one of them made a stupid move.

"Dagon it, Tolbert!"

"What?"

"You ain't s'pposed t' win this."

"Funny. I thought I—"

"_Tolbert!_"

Bud came running into the room. He could see the other people, but he didn't care. He was too scared to focus on them and ran straight to Tolbert, falling down beside him. He moved to where he could easily curl up against him and buried his face in the crook of Tolbert's neck, throwing his arms over Tolbert's shoulders.

Tolbert wrapped his arms around him, not caring that the boy was sitting on his lap.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he cooed softly, knowing that Bud wouldn't have acted like that if something wasn't wrong.

"He—he's gonna get me! He's gonna get me an' he's gonna kill me!"

"No, he's not. I'm not gonna let him get near ya."

"Oh my God, he's gonna _kill me, _Tolbert! He — I-I don't wanna go back! I don't wanna!" he sobbed.

"Ya ain't gonna go back. You're stuck with me, kid, sorry 'bout your luck. But I promise ya, he ain't ever gonna get near ya again. You're okay, you're safe. You will always be safe here. Now do me a favor and breathe."

Bud clung tightly to him, drawing in a deep breath.

"I don't wanna go back."

"You're not goin' back. You're gonna stay here. Cal, go get a blanket, will ya?" Tolbert looked over his shoulder at his brother. Calvin nodded and got up, shuffling out of the room. "Shh... you're okay, baby, you're okay. It wa'n't nothin' but a bad dream."

Calvin came back, handing a thick, fluffy blanket to Tolbert. Tolbert covered Bud with it, tossing it over the boy's bruised legs and pulling it up to his shoulder. Bud whined and shifted slightly, letting his right arm fall, clutching the front of Tolbert's shirt.

"You okay, Buddy?"

Bud nodded. He was fine. He'd just scared himself, that was all. The dream had seemed real and it scared him out of his wits.

He would have to stop running to Tolbert, though. He didn't want to get to where he annoyed Tolbert. Bud loved his older brother and he didn't want him to hate him. He'd eventually adjust to it; he had to be careful. He didn't want it ending the way it had with John.

"Your move, Jim," Tolbert spoke softly, rubbing Bud's arm. Bud didn't say anything. He didn't acknowledge whoever Jim was, and he didn't acknowledge the two that sat on the couch. He just laid his head on Tolbert's shoulder and stayed silent. He'd learned the hard way that it was best to stay silent.

Tolbert didn't say anything after that. He reached forward and moved something, but Bud didn't pay any attention to it. Bud's eyes fluttered shut and he forced them open again. He couldn't fall asleep. He didn't know who else was in the room and he didn't want to take the risk.

—

**_December 2013_**

Bud began to shuffle toward his room, trying to be as silent as he possibly could. Tolbert was on the phone with someone and he didn't want to interrupt him.

"I know that, but I've been kinda busy," Tolbert said irritably. "No, I can't do it t'morrow. I've gotta — quit makin' it out like it's my fault. I've gotta take Bud t' the doctor t'morrow, which is gonna be stressful enough as it is. I've gotta find a way t' get him t' talk t' them. I don't need you addin' anythin' more."

Bud slid his backpack off his shoulders before hurrying past the kitchen and failing to keep from being seen.

"When'd you get home, kiddo?"

"Jus' now."

"No, I can't — listen, I'll call you back, alright? We'll work it out."

Tolbert hung up and sighed heavily, looking up and meeting Bud's eyes.

"You okay, Buddy? Ya look a little pale."

"I'm fine," Bud waved it off. "I'm... I'm gonna go do my homework."

Bud hurried to his room, closing the door behind him. He threw the backpack in the corner and sighed as he wrestled his jacket off.

_"I've gotta take Bud t' the doctor t'morrow, which is gonna be stressful enough as it is."_

The words echoed in Bud's mind, and he wished they would _stop. _He didn't like the thoughts they brought up, and he really didn't want to think about them. He'd been happy the last month and he didn't want to ruin it.

Bud huffed and moved to his dresser, finding a baggy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants to change into. He was being ridiculous. Just because Tolbert thought something was stressful didn't mean he was tired of Bud or hated him. Or did it?

Bud shook his head and took off his long-sleeved shirt, tossing it in the hamper before pulling the t-shirt on. He was being ridiculous, he knew he was. Tolbert would come right out and tell him if he was bothering him, wouldn't he? He'd tell Bud if he was tired of him or if he hated him. Tolbert didn't care to say what he thought.

He shuffled back, grabbing his backpack and sitting down at his desk. He was going to have to stop thinking about it. He was doing more harm than good that way. Everything was _fine._

—

"Perry? What're ya doin' here?" Tolbert asked, shock in his voice.

Bud didn't mean to eavesdrop. He was sitting in the kitchen eating his dinner and happened to hear what was being said.

"I came t' talk t' you," Perry stated while the door clicked shut.

He heard Tolbert sigh.

"Now? Ya couldn't've done this while he was at school?"

_Oh God, _it was about him?

"'Fraid not. I've been too busy t' stop by durin' the day. Where is he, anyway?"

"Kitchen. He's eatin' supper right now. Whatcha want, Perry?"

"When are you plannin' on—"

"Soon, Perry, soon. I've got a lot on my plate right now."

Bud got up and sighed, washing the plate and fork before putting them where they were supposed to be. He slipped out of the kitchen and went to his room, shaking his head.

"Tolbert, we've got t' draw the papers up eventually."

"And we will. It's like I said earlier, I've got a lot goin' on right now."

"You've got a lot goin' on? Tolbert, if we don't do this soon, Judge Wagner might not be so willing to do it so quickly."

"_I know. _I'm dealin' with a lot right now, a'ight?" Tolbert's voice took on an edge. "I've got a twelve-year-old boy that thinks he's pullin' somethin' over on me. He thinks I don't know how cautious he is around me, and I've tried everything I can think of t' get it t' stop, an' it hasn't worked. So _I'm sorry _I haven't been worried about drawin' up papers."

Bud's heart sunk in his chest. Tolbert knew he was cautious around him?

"It would be a lot easier if you just did it," Perry sighed, leaning against the wall close to Bud's room.

"I haven't had the time," Tolbert sighed. "I'm tryin' t' get him t' talk t' me about what bothers him, then I've got work, and I have t' take him t' the doctor t'morrow. I have no time for all of this!"

"If you come in, I'm sure we could get it done in an hour or less."

"Perry—"

"If you want it done quickly, you're gonna have to. Leave him with Jim or one of your sisters for a while. Get this done."

"He doesn't trust them," Tolbert stated bluntly.

"He doesn't have t' trust them t' stay there for an hour, Tolbert. Maybe he will by the time ya get back."

"It's a miracle I get him t' talk t' me sometimes. I doubt he's gonna trust one of them while he's bein' forced t' stay with them."

"Why doesn't he trust you? I thought the two of you were as thick as thieves."

"Well, I never said we were as thick as thieves. I said we were close. There's a difference."

"Oh, yes, a big difference," Perry remarked sarcastically.

"He's cautious. He thinks I don't notice how he acts around me, but I do. He's still wakin' up screamin' and he refuses t' come t' me anymore. I'll ask him if he's okay and he'll tell me that he's fine. I don't know what I'm doin' wrong, but it's gotta be somethin'."

Bud slammed his textbook shut. He propped his elbows up on the desk and held his head in his hands while he fought against his tears. He couldn't do anything right, could he? He thought he'd been doing better, that he'd made it a little better for everyone by keeping to himself. Apparently, he hadn't.

Tolbert wasn't doing anything wrong. It was Bud, it was all Bud. It was _always_ Bud. Why couldn't he do something right for once in his life?

"I jus' don't get it, Perry. He's never been like this with me. I don't know if I've done somethin' or what, but I can't get him t' stop."

Bud burst into tears, clamping a hand over his mouth to stay quiet. He didn't mean to cause so much trouble. He just wanted to prevent Tolbert from hating him as long as he possibly could.

He got up and closed the door, turning and sliding down to the floor with his back against it. _What had he done?_

_—_

Tolbert sighed as he entered Bud's room the next morning, finding him at his desk, writing something in a notebook.

"Hey, Buddy. Get ready. I'll fix ya somethin' t' eat while ya do," Tolbert said, forcing a small smile.

Bud nodded, biting down on his lip. He set his pen down and closed the notebook, getting up and shuffling to his dresser.

"What d'ya want?" Tolbert queried.

"I don't care," Bud responded hoarsely. "Whatever's fine with me."

"A'ight."

Tolbert headed toward the kitchen, leaving Bud alone again. He found a flannel and a pair of dark jeans, changing into it before grabbing his boots and pulling them on. He grabbed his phone and shoved it in his pocket, leaving his room and going into the kitchen.

"You okay?" Tolbert asked, raising a brow.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'm fine."

"Did ya hear what was said last night?" Tolbert questioned, his voice soft while he leaned against the kitchen island. Bud couldn't lie. He was a terrible liar. So he nodded. "It's... oh God, it's nothin' bad. I just — God, kid, I've never had t' do anything like this before."

"What?"

"This... try to be a parental figure thing. I'm not cut out for it," he chuckled breathlessly. "If I've learned one thing from this whole thing, it's that I'd make a terrible father."

"You would not," Bud said quickly. "It's _me,_ Tol. It's not you."

Tolbert looked up at him, seeing the tears that welled in his eyes.

"What's you?" Tolbert asked, genuinely curious.

"All of this. It's nothin' you've done, a'ight? It's just me. It's all me and I'm sorry. I just... I _can't, _Tolbert." Bud was trying his best not to cry. His voice rose in pitch and his throat constricted, but no tears fell onto his face.

"Bud..."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Tolbert."

"Hey, hey, calm down. It's okay. _Shoot!_" Tolbert moved to turn the stove off. "So... two choices: burnt pancakes _or _we can get somethin' on the way t' the doctor. Up to you."

—

Tolbert didn't know what to do. Bud had overheard everything that was said the night before and he seemed convinced that it was all his fault. The boy hadn't said more than five words to him once they'd gotten in the truck and set out for the doctor's office, but Tolbert didn't really know how to fix whatever was going on.

He was starting to doubt his decision to adopt Bud.

If he adopted him, they wouldn't have to worry about anyone taking Bud away from him. Tolbert tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he slowed the truck down a little to take a sharp curve.

"Bud... you know I'd do anything t' keep you safe, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded almost immediately. "Why?"

"How d'ya feel about adoption?"

"Adoption?" Bud whipped his head toward him. "I don't know, never really thought about it."

"Well... I'm thinkin' about adoptin' ya. No one could come in an' take ya for no reason that way. Ya'd be sure t' stay with me if we did it that way."

"You-you wanna adopt me?" His voice dropped in volume.

"Yeah, Buddy. But I won't if you don't want me to."

"Ya... oh my God," he muttered. "You — you really want me?"

"Of course I do!" Tolbert looked over at him. "Why on earth wouldn't I want you?"

"I dunno. I'm not really a person that's wanted, Tolbert. I mean, y-ya ask John n practically anyone at school an' they tell ya I'm a terrible person. I'm not someone who's wanted."

"Well, I hate t' break it to ya, but ya are. _I _want you. You're not terrible either. Ya have yer days when yer in a rotten mood, but heck, we all do. It's part of bein' human. And quite frankly, I'm determined t' keep you safe this time 'round. I can do that better if I'm sure they ain't gonna take you from me."

Bud let out a small laugh, wiping at his eyes.

"I've never seen ya in a bad mood, Tolbert."

Tolbert laughed.

"Ya will at some point, kiddo. I'm not the best person t' be around when that happens, 'cause I'm hot-headed anyway, but I do a fairly good job at keepin' my temper in check. Unless the boys do somethin' stupid to intentionally get on my nerves."

Bud breathed a laugh and shifted in his seat.

"Do I really have t' talk t' someone I don't know?"

"I'm afraid ya do. But they're there t' help ya. Have you ever been to the doctor?"

"No. We went somewheres when I had t' get vaccinated for school, but that was it. Wasn't no doctor's office."

Tolbert hummed and nodded.

"You'll be fine. We'll find out how tall ya are n how much ya weigh. Things we really need t' know. I'll go back with ya if ya want—"

"Yes. Don't you leave me alone."

"Okay! Okay, I won't, geez," Tolbert smirked, glancing at him again. "You'll be okay, darlin'. I promise ya will."

—

Bud wasn't fine when they left the office. He had been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). And after having each one explained to him, Bud's heart sunk to his stomach. Especially when he learned he'd never get rid of them.

So the entire ride home — including the stop at the pharmacy to drop off the prescriptions — Bud didn't utter a single word. He just stared out the window with his head leaned against it, not a single trace of emotion on his face.

Maybe that was why he acted the way he did around Tolbert.

"Hey... don't let it bring ya down. I had a feelin' you had at least two of the three."

"Why?" he rasped.

"Little things that I've caught over the last month. Little signs that most people probably wouldn't notice... It won't change anything about ya. Ya've got medicine t' help with it now. Maybe it won't be as bad once ya get adjusted to it," Tolbert explained as he pulled into the driveway.

"I don't want it."

"No one ever does, Bud."

He unbuckled his seatbelt and slid out of the truck, going to the front porch and waiting by the door for Tolbert. Tolbert was there a second later and unlocked it, pushing it open and allowing Bud to go in first.

Bud went straight to his room, closing the door behind him. He took off his boots before shuffling to his bed and flopping on it, a heart-wrenching sob tearing from his throat. He just wanted to be normal. That was all Bud wanted.

—

Tolbert didn't say a word when Bud came into his room and crawled onto the bed, curling up beside him. Bud stayed silent, placing his head on Tolbert's chest. He could hear Tolbert's steady heartbeat, a rhythm that assured him that his older brother was okay. Bud wrapped his arms around Tolbert's torso and exhaled deeply through his nostrils.

Tolbert let his left arm wrap around Bud and lifted his right, brushing his hair off of his face before he began to pull his fingers through the thick locks. Bud hummed at that, blinking owlishly for a few seconds.

"Tolbert," he spoke up, reaching up and grabbing Tolbert's hand.

"Yeah, Buddy?"

"You still want me?" Bud questioned innocently, looking up at his older brother.

"Why wouldn't I?" Tolbert countered.

"Ain't no good."

"You're plenty o' good."

"Don't feel that way," he whispered. "Feel like a burden."

"Well, you ain't no burden. Matter of fact, I like havin' ya around, Buddy. I enjoy your company."

"Y' do?"

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded. "I do."

"Why? I don't — I ain't good company. I know I'm not."

"Yer cautious. And we found out why yer so cautious t'day. Anxiety n depression are awful, but ya add PTSD to it and it's so much worse. I'm honestly proud of ya, baby. Ya testified against him, had the choice t' send him t' jail but ya didn't. Ya've come a long way since ya first moved in here. You'll tell me what you want now, that's progress. We work it day by day, that's how we're gonna do it. It's worked pretty good so far, don't ya think?"

"Mhm." Bud paused for a second, brows furrowing in thought. "Why d'you call me baby?"

"Mama used t' call all of us that. Reckon I just kept doin' it with you so it didn't seem like we'd completely lost them. I've never stopped doin' it. I can if you want me to."

"No, I was jus' wond'rin'. Ya never call any of the others baby."

"Yeah, n they ain't my kid neither. You are," Tolbert tapped his nose, earning a quiet giggle. "What was that? A giggle? Oh my word, he didn't!"

"Stop it!" Bud tried to suppress a laugh.

"Stop what?" Tolbert pulled a face, earning another giggle.

"Quit it! I'm tryin' t' be serious."

"So am I, Buddy. You're my kid, it's my job t' cheer you up."

"Hey... hey, Tol?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"I love you."

"I love you too. Now get t' sleep, you've got school in the mornin'."

—

"Hey, baby," Tolbert greeted casually as Bud entered the living room, plopping down on the couch beside him. "So... can I ask ya somethin'?"

"Sure," he agreed quietly.

"Do you want me t' adopt you?" Tolbert asked, looking over at him.

Bud's eyes flicked up and met his. Tolbert could see the shock in his eyes, could see the confusion and some other emotion he couldn't name. Bud floundered for a few seconds.

"Y—you're askin' me?"

"Yeah. I'm not doin' somethin' you don't want me t' do. If you need a while t' think about it—"

"No!" Bud exclaimed. "I-I mean yes! Wait... no, I mean no with that. I... but your question, the answer is yes. Yes."

"I'm glad you want it," Tolbert murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He let Bud lean against him and pressed a kiss to the top of Bud's head. "One more thing, baby."

"What?" Bud peered up at him, his hazel eyes gleaming.

"What d'ya want for Christmas this year?"

Bud pulled a face.

"You've never asked me that before," he mumbled.

"Because I've always got you what ya needed. This year, I can get ya what ya want 'cause you already have everythin' ya need."

"O-oh. I don't... I don't know, I don't really want anything."

"Well, give me an idea of what ya would like then, Bud. I mean, I've got a few ideas, since I can get by with gettin' you more than one gift this year, but I want t' at least get ya somethin' you want."

"I don't know. Like I said, I don't really want anythin'. I just... I don't know."

"What d'you like t' do?"

"Write."

"Okay... you want some stuff t' write with?"

"Yeah," Bud answered quietly.

"A'ight. I'll getcha some stuff t' write with, even though I'd get ya that at any time if you'd ask me."

Bud blushed and lowered his gaze. He'd thought about asking Tolbert for things to write with before, but he never could work up the courage for it. So he would write on the loose paper he bought for school and in the back of notebooks.

"I love ya, Buddy."

Bud smiled while he wrapped his arms around Tolbert's arm.

"I love you too."

—

A week later, Bud was adopted.

Tolbert had taken him out to celebrate, and had let the boy pick where he wanted to go. It took a few minutes to coax an answer out of him, but they ended up at one of the all you can eat buffets. And after that, the two went home.

Tolbert hadn't really been paying much attention to anything when the door to his room slammed against the wall. Bud ran over and climbed onto the bed, sliding under the covers and curling up beside his older brother, nuzzling his face into his chest.

"May I help you?" Tolbert jested, hoping to cheer him up a little.

"Night-nightmare. Don't wanna be 'lone."

"Ah. Well, I reckon you can sleep in here if ya really want to."

Bud stayed quiet, Tolbert bringing his hand up and playing with the boy's hair. Bud hummed, becoming lost in his thoughts.

He was adopted now. He could remember a time when he thought that Tolbert was really his father. He'd woke him up and after Tolbert became coherent enough to process what Bud had called him, he corrected him and told him that no, he wasn't his father. Their father was in Heaven with their mother, and they were both two of the most amazing people on the planet.

But now that he was adopted, that made Tolbert his father, didn't it? He was pretty sure it did. He wasn't entirely sure, but he was almost positive that the legal document Tolbert had signed today made him Bud's father. Or his stepfather. He wasn't sure which it would be.

"Tolbert, you remember when I thought you was my father?" Bud asked suddenly, deciding to see if he was right.

"Yeah, I remember. Gave me quite the shock when ya did that."

"Miss Hope said that everyone has a father. After you told me that ya wasn't, I didn't believe her for a long while. Not ev'ryone has a father. Some people just have someone who's always there an' they're a father figure, but they're not their father."

Tolbert's brows furrowed. He didn't know where Bud was going with this, but it was intriguing to hear how the boy thought and felt.

"Then after y' moved out, it got a lot worse. You was always there, though, in a way. You helped me learn how t' bandage my wounds an' ya taught me when I should be concerned over a wound an' when I shouldn't be. Ya taught me everything I know, Tol. Then you fought for me an' ya got me outta that house. And... and now you've adopted me."

"Well, I know the last part," Tolbert remarked. "I was there and signed the paper, ya know."

"Have you thought about it?"

"What d'ya mean have I thought about it?"

"Have you thought about it?" he repeated, looking up at Tolbert.

"I'm not gettin' what ya mean by that. If yer tryin' t' ask if I'm sure, _yes, _I'm sure about it."

"No! I know that," Bud huffed. "_Have you thought about it?_"

"Thought about what?"

"Tolbert... ya just signed a paper that legally made you my dad."

Tolbert's heart skipped a beat. He'd thought about it, but not for very long. He had really given that part of it much thought. He didn't know why he was shocked that Bud had figured that out, but he was.

"I did," Tolbert nodded.

Bud sobbed.

"Oh God, do you not want that? I don't know how, but I'm sure we can get it re—"

"N-no! I—I love it. N-no one's e-ever done somethin' like that for me. Why... why would ya sign a paper like that?"

"Because I love you and I want you."

"But... _Tolbert, _ya—"

"Did somethin' I shoulda done the instant we won the case," Tolbert cut him off. "It jus' happened t' make me yer dad instead of yer legal guardian. And if you don't like that, we can act like that part of it doesn't exist."

"No, I love it," Bud mumbled, sniffling and wiping at his nose with his sleeve. "I love it s' much."

"I'm glad ya do, darlin'. Why don't ya get some sleep, hm?"

"I will. But... Tol?"

"Huh?"

"Does that mean I have t' call you Dad now?"

"Not if you don't want to. I mean... biologically, we're brothers."

"Tolbert... you've always been my dad. John wasn't. You was."

Tolbert breathed a chuckle.

"Reckon so, kid. Get some sleep."

—

**_March 2014_**

"_Psst. _Hey, wake up!" Bud gently shook Tolbert's shoulder. "Wake up."

Tolbert didn't wake. He didn't even stir. Bud didn't know what else to do, so he shook his shoulder a little harder.

"Dad, please, wake up."

"'M awake, Buddy. What d'ya want?"

"There's somethin' wrong with my clothes. They don't fit no more."

"'Cause you hit a growth spurt. Find ya a shirt n a pair of pants in my dresser. What're you doin' up so early anyways?"

"Can't sleep."

"Mmm..."

"Sorry for botherin' you," Bud murmured.

"Ya don't bother me." Tolbert cracked a single eye open. "I was jus' wond'rin' why you're up before the sun. An' callin' me Dad jus' ta wake me up? That's rude."

"I call you Dad all the time!" Bud argued.

"I know. Go get some clothes, kiddo. We'll go out n find ya some new ones t'day."

"Ya don't have t—"

"Bud, your clothes don't fit ya anymore. You went from standin' at my chest to above my shoulder in less than a week. Ya need new clothes."

"Fine, whatever. I'll leave ya alone now."

"Mkay. Love ya."

"Love ya too, Dad."

—

Tolbert looked over at Bud, who was looking through the shirts that hung on a rack.

"D'you care if I call you Dad?" Bud asked, looking up at him.

"Nah, I don't care. Call me whatever you want."

"Even weirdo, idiot, moron—"

"_Alright, _I get the point."

Bud laughed under his breath, pulling a shirt off the rack.

"What about this one?"

"You're the one that's gonna be wearin' it. Not me."

Bud rolled his eyes.

"Ya sure ya don't care? I can call ya Tolbert in public if ya want me to."

"Bud, call me whatever ya want. I honestly don't care if you call me Dad or Tolbert. Either one's fine with me."

"Know somethin'?"

"What?"

"I like havin' a dad."

"I'm glad ya do. Now would ya please hurry so we can get outta here before all the crazy people come in?"

Bud laughed and nodded.

—

Tolbert was in a bad mood. He didn't know why, but he didn't care enough to try to figure it out. He'd been in a bad mood when he woke up and everything had gone downhill since.

Bud had been late to school — that was Tolbert's fault because he overslept — and that meant Tolbert was late to work. Jim had chewed him out for it and then the saw just stopped working, which stopped production for the day. Then he and Jim got into it because they had very different opinions on what was wrong with it, and Bud had called in the middle of the argument. (And maybe Jim shouldn't have made the remark he did about Tolbert having Bud listed as his son in his phone.)

So by the time Tolbert got home, the frustration Bud had witnessed that morning had multiplied to fury, and he knew at this point he was like a ticking time bomb. He didn't know what would set him off, but he was hoping and praying it wasn't Bud.

Tolbert had yet to lose his temper around Bud, and he would like to keep it that way. He didn't want to scare him and cause all of the progress they'd made disappear. Tolbert knew how he was when he got mad, and he didn't think it would be right if he lost his temper with Bud just because he was in a bad mood.

"Hey, Dad, can you do me a favor?"

"Later, Buddy," he sighed, trying to keep the irritation out of his tone.

"I mean, it's nothin' bad, I promise. I just had t' write this an' wanted t' know if you think it's okay."

"I'll read it later, I promise."

Bud nodded and set it on the table.

"Are you okay?" he asked, clearly noticing something was off with him.

"Fine. It's just been a long day, mkay?"

"Mkay." Bud bit down on his lip for a second. "Just... holler at me when yer done with it."

"Alright. What is it anyway?"

"An essay for English," Bud rolled his eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Oh..."

Maybe the silence felt uncomfortable to Bud, or maybe he was just in one of his talkative moods. Either way, the boy started rambling shortly after that, and Tolbert was growing more and more irritated by the second.

Bud had been rambling for five minutes straight and had sat down on one of the barstools, tapping his fingertips against the countertop of the island.

"Oh my God, stop it!" Tolbert shouted, causing Bud to stop talking and flinch. "_Stop! _I swear, I'll read your stupid paper, just stop talkin' and tappin' your fingers like that!"

"I-I'm sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't cover everything!"

Bud got up, slowly backing away from Tolbert. Oh God, he'd made him mad, he was gonna hit him just like John had and— and why was his chest so tight? Bud whimpered and rubbed his chest, his breathing becoming shallow. He became lightheaded and stumbled, falling to the floor as tears rushed down his face.

Tolbert seemed to snap out of his anger then.

"Bud? Oh God, I'm—"

He stopped talking when Bud moved away from him, fear shining in his hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry, Tolbert, I'm sorry!"

"Bud, nonono, breathe! You gotta breathe. I'm sorry, Buddy, I am so sorry."

Bud couldn't breathe. Tolbert was gonna hurt him and — and he couldn't breathe. He was going to die. Bud didn't want to die. His chest heaved with a sob, his heart thundering against his rib cage.

"Breathe, Buddy, breathe," Tolbert fell to his knees beside him.

"I—I can't b-br-breathe! I'm gonna — gonna die, Tol'ert!"

"No, you're not. You're okay, gimme your hand. There ya go, do what I do."

Tolbert exaggerated his breathing, holding Bud's hand against his chest. He held each breath until Bud copied it, eventually calming the boy down enough that he caught his breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please don't hurt me," he whimpered, curling up into a ball.

"You think... oh God, no, baby, no. I'm not gonna hurt you, Bud. I'm so sorry, I didn't — oh my God."

"I didn't — I didn't mean t' make ya mad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I won't do it 'gain."

"Hey, no, listen," Tolbert gently lifted Bud's head.

The boy jerked his head away and cowered away from him. Tolbert's heart shattered in his chest. What had he done to him?

"Go t' your room, Buddy," he whispered brokenly.

Bud scrambled to his feet and ran out of the room. Tolbert flinched when he heard the door shut and what sounded like a cry come from his baby brother.

Oh God, what had Tolbert done?

—

Bud locked the door to his room before sitting down at his desk, tears rolling down his face. What had he done? Tolbert had told him that he'd had a long day and he could tell that something was wrong with him, and he'd still made him mad. Bud never should have left his room. He should have kept his stupid essay to himself.

He'd made Tolbert mad. He'd just ruined everything and Tolbert was going to realize that John had been right. He'd lost every right he had to call Tolbert _Dad_ and he was sure Tolbert regretted ever taking him in. He should have said no when Tolbert asked him if he wanted him to adopt him.

Bud should've known that everything was going too well. He'd let Tolbert adopt him and now they were in a mess that couldn't be undone. They had both signed a legal document that made Tolbert his parent. Maybe the whole situation happened because Bud got too close. He became dependent on Tolbert.

He'd gotten used to being able to approach him at any given time, and always getting a warm greeting and smile. Tolbert hadn't minded that Bud called him Dad, had even encouraged it, and now it was all gone because of Bud.

Bud was an idiot.

Without much of a second thought and in one swift motion, he swept everything off of his desk, paying no mind to the sound as everything crashed to the floor. He propped one elbow up on the desk, his left arm laying limp on the surface of the desk while his head rested against his right hand.

_What had he done?_

—

Tolbert sighed as he sat down on the edge of his bed, Bud's paper in hand. He turned on the lamp beside his bed before shifting to where his back was against the headboard, swallowing thickly before deciding to read it.

And maybe he shouldn't have. Maybe he should've taken it back to Bud and hoped for the best. But he decided to read it anyway.

_There is only one person in the world that I completely trust. His name is Tolbert McCoy, and I will gladly tell you why I trust him._

_My parents died when I was very young. I do not even know what they looked like, but I do know that they were good people. My brother Tolbert and I were placed in the foster care system, and he refused to leave me alone. That was how we ended up in the house of a man named John._

_John wasn't a nice man. I would do something and Tolbert would take a beating for it, just so I wouldn't get hurt. Tolbert stood up for me more often than not and often did something he wasn't supposed to for me. And he never got caught._

_Tolbert taught me everything I know. He's taught me how to dress wounds and how to tell if they're serious or not. He's taught me how to tie my shoe, tie a necktie, and how to style my hair. He has always been there for me and has often helped me with something he doesn't fully understand himself._

_Tolbert has been my guardian angel. He fought for four long years to get me out of that house, and then he went as far as to adopt me. Tolbert has shown me nothing but love, and I feel completely safe around him._

_While this assignment was meant to be about my father, I can't write about a person I know nothing about. So instead, I wrote about my father figure, who also happens to be my older brother who is ten years my senior. I will forever be indebted to him for everything he has done for me, and I sincerely hope he knows how much I love him._

_Tolbert McCoy is not my father; he is much more than that. He is my guardian angel, my protector that has always been there. I shall always love him, no matter what may happen between us. Tolbert has saved me from a miserable life that could have led to my demise._

_I will always adore my guardian angel._

Tolbert wiped at his eyes and sniffed. Bud hadn't told him what his essay was about, he'd just asked him to read it. Tolbert should have just read the essay when Bud asked him to.

Tolbert shouldn't've lost his temper with him. He knew how anxious Bud could get if he felt even the slightest bit of discomfort, and how that could lead to anxious rambling. He had a nervous tic of tapping his fingers, Tolbert _knew that, _and he'd lost his temper. He'd took his frustration out on him and had even called his essay stupid.

_Oh God, _he'd called his essay stupid. A single sheet of paper that Bud had wanted his opinion on and he'd called it stupid right in front of him without a second thought.

And now that he thought about it, Bud hadn't called him Dad like he usually did when he threw himself into a panic attack. He'd called him Tolbert. Bud was afraid of him.

Tolbert grabbed a pillow and held it over his face, screaming into it. It muffled the scream and kept it relatively quiet, allowing Tolbert to scream as loud as he wanted to. He was stupid.

Tolbert wasn't a guardian angel like Bud had described him. He was a stupid idiot.

—

Tolbert knocked on Bud's door.

"What... what d'you want?" Bud demanded.

"I read yer essay. I'm here t' give it back to ya."

"Oh, now you wanna read it?"

"Bud..."

"Forget it. Forget what I said, I'm sorry; I'm so sorry. H-hang on."

He could hear the boy shuffling around for a moment, heard the lock click before the door swung open.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"Don't be. Ya didn't do nothin' wrong. I'm sorry, Buddy. It's just been a bad day and... and I took it out on you. That was wrong of me. But I can tell ya this much, I won't ever hurt you, no matter how mad I might get at ya. No one deserves that."

"You said you read it. I know... it's short n dumb, but — but it's all I could do, Tolbert."

"It's perfect. Even though I'm no guardian angel. I think the words stupid idiot fit me better."

Bud shook his head.

"No stupid idiot woulda done what you did. And-and thank you... for doin' all that. Y' coulda jus' left me there, or-or ya coulda jus' been my legal guardian, but you took it a step farther. And — and I know we can't undo that, it's a legal document, but... but I'll stop callin' you Dad. I'm so sorry."

Tolbert floundered for a second. That wasn't what he wanted at all.

"See, there's — there's _reasons _why no one wants me. This one is one of 'em, Tolbert. No one can handle me. Not—not a single person can handle all of the trouble I cause, not a single person can handle the mess that I am. I always end up makin' someone mad n I always end up gettin' hurt. I just... I'm so sorry. I don't know how to handle any of this or how t' make it stop. I-I swear t' ya, I can make it seem like I ain't here. I'll, I'll stop callin' you Dad an' I won't talk as much an-an' I'll try t' do better... I know ya prob'ly don't want me no more, an' that's okay. The most I could do after ev'rythin' ya've done for me is write a shirt essay that's s' dumb it should be burned."

Tolbert set the paper down on the desk and pulled Bud into a tight embrace. He didn't say anything at first, planting a soft kiss on Bud's forehead. Bud wrapped his arms around Tolbert, nuzzling against Tolbert's shoulder.

"Oh no, baby, no. I want you, I do. Don't stop callin' me Dad over this. Ya ain't done nothin' wrong, Buddy, I promise ya, ya haven't. I didn't mean a word I said. I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean ta scare ya the way I did."

Bud didn't say a word. He just clung to Tolbert, much like he had when he'd first moved in.

"I'm so sorry, Dad," Bud sobbed into his shoulder.

"Hey, shh... you're okay, it's okay," Tolbert cooed, his eyes catching sight of the things that had been swiped off of the desk. And quietly, under his breath, he remarked, "So that's what that commotion was."

Bud lifted his head to see what he was talking about.

"O-oh. I'll pick it up in a minute," he mumbled. "'M real sorry, Dad. Didn't mean t' make ya mad, really I didn't."

"I know. Listen, it's been a really rough day," Tolbert sighed. "We were both late this mornin' and I got int' it with Jim... then I was already mad when I came home an' I just couldn't stop myself from gettin' mad. I'm sorry. I shouldn't-a took my anger out on you. I shoulda just went n took a nap or somethin'."

"I shouldn't've bothered ya over that stupid essay anyways," Bud spoke quietly and hung his head, anxiously picking at his nails.

"Stop that. It wasn't a stupid essay an' ya don't bother me. I liked it, to answer what ya asked me b'fore I lost my temper. I shoulda just read yer essay when ya asked me to. Now, would you like t' watch a movie? Or two? Maybe three. We'll order a pizza n have a movie night."

Bud nodded. That was something he could agree to.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. I'm gonna pick this stuff up... shove the essay back in the folder it goes in."

"Alright. I'll let ya know when the pizza's here."

—

**_April 2014_**

Bud woke up in the middle of the night. He threw the covers off and ran to the bathroom, falling to his knees in front of the toilet before retching into it.

Once he'd finished, he flushed it before turning and slumping against the wall, breathing heavily. He whined quietly, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the wall behind him.

"Bud? What are ya doin'?" Tolbert mumbled groggily, appearing in the doorway.

"Got sick," Bud responded, his voice wavering. "Jus' haven't moved yet."

His stomach was still churning and he wasn't sure he could move. Bud had always hated nausea, but he hated it even more when it was what woke him up in the middle of the night.

He whined and moved away when a damp cloth hit his face.

"Hey, stop," Tolbert said gently, cleaning the boy's face. "Let's getcha back t' bed. Up ya get."

Tolbert helped him to his feet, leading him to his room where Bud climbed into bed without complaint. Tolbert tucked him in before pressing the back of his hand to Bud's forehead. He hummed in displeasure, brushing Bud's hair off of his face.

"Get some sleep, baby."

Tolbert turned to leave, only to have Bud catch his wrist.

"Don't leave. Please."

Tolbert gazed at him for a few seconds and nodded. He rounded the bed, getting on the other side and allowing Bud to curl up against him.

"I don' feel s' good," Bud admitted in a quiet mumble.

"I didn't think ya would. Yer burnin' up, kiddo."

"Dad."

"What?"

"If... if y' could do it over 'gain, would y' still want me? Like — like would ya still 'dopt me even if ya thought 'bout it would make y' my dad?"

"Of course I would, baby. If you had the choice knowin' that signin' that paper made ya my son, would ya still do it?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

Tolbert chuckled and kissed his forehead.

"I'm glad ya would. I like havin' a son," Tolbert smiled softly. "Even if ya are biologically my brother."

Bud giggled quietly, humming when Tolbert started playing with his hair.

"Ya wanna tell me what's wrong with ya?" Tolbert queried.

"Jus' don't feel good," Bud mumbled. "M' stomach n chest hurts. M' head hurts too."

"I'll have t' go getcha some medicine t'morrow if ya ain't got no worse. If ya get any worse, yer goin' t' the doctor."

"Don't need no doctor."

"I beg to differ. You needed a doctor the last time ya got sick."

"Mm... well, y'know how John was. No doctors."

"Ya ain't with him no more. You're with me, an' I will gladly take you t' the doctor if ya need t' go."

Bud hummed and closed his eyes.

"Get some sleep, Buddy. Maybe you can sleep it off."

"Hope so."

—

Jim sighed as he pulled into Tolbert's driveway. It was nearing ten o'clock, and Tolbert was supposed to be at the office at 8:30 that morning. He'd tried to text and call both him and Bud, and all calls and messages had been ignored.

He left his truck running, as Pharmer and Calvin were with him, but he was less than surprised when they followed him to the front porch.

"Y' think somethin's wrong, Poppy?" Pharmer looked at him uncertainly while he pulled the key out of his pocket.

"There's gonna be if there's not already," Jim grunted, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

He walked down the hall, looking in each room for either one of his brothers. Reaching Bud's room, he saw Bud and Tolbert sleeping. Tolbert had an arm wrapped around Bud, and Bud had his back facing them.

He walked over to Tolbert, noticing how pale Bud was. Jim wouldn't have cared to say that he was as pale as a ghost. He focused on Tolbert again, gently shaking his shoulder.

"Tolbert! Tolbert, wake up!"

"Hm, wha'? What're y' doin' 'ere, Jim?" Tolbert rubbed his eyes with his right hand, blinking a few times to clear his hazy vision.

"Tolbert, ya scared me half t' death! Neither one of ya would answer my calls or texts. What're ya doin' sleepin' at ten o'clock?" Jim demanded.

"Been up half the night," he yawned. "Bud's sick. When he ain't throwin' up or dry heavin', he tries t' sleep. Purdy sure I'm gonna be makin' a trip t' MedExpress t'day."

Jim sighed and let his eyes focus on Bud, who woke up and swatted at Tolbert's arm. Tolbert moved his arm and watched the boy dash out of the room for what felt like the thousandth time. Tolbert got up and followed him, turning the light on in the bathroom before grabbing a washcloth and turning the water on in the sink.

He glanced over at Bud before shutting the water off and wringing the cloth out, bending down in front of him and wiping his face. Bud whined, trying to move his head out of Tolbert's reach.

"Bud, stop it."

Tolbert stood up, throwing the cloth in the hamper before pulling Bud to his feet. Bud stumbled into Tolbert, who wrapped his arms around him quickly to keep the boy upright. Bud whimpered and put his head on Tolbert's shoulder.

"Back t' bed," Tolbert ordered, keeping his voice soft. Bud nodded and shuffled out of the bathroom.

Tolbert found the thermometer that he'd bought shortly after Bud moved in, returning to Bud's room with it. He glanced at Jim, who was looking at Bud.

"Here, let me take yer temperature."

Bud scowled but did it anyway. Tolbert sat down on the edge of the bed, combing his fingers through Bud's thick, sweaty locks of hair. The thermometer beeped. Bud stuck his tongue out at Tolbert when he wasn't looking, much to Jim's amusement.

"Yeah, reckon yer goin' t' MedExpress. 102.8 ain't good."

"Do I have to?" Bud grumbled, turning onto his side so he faced Tolbert.

"Yes, you have to."

Bud groaned and shoved his face in his pillow. Jim and Tolbert chuckled, Tolbert scratching Bud's scalp.

"Mm..."

"Oh my God," Tolbert muttered once he realized why Jim had been trying to get ahold of him. "Oh God, why didn't you say somethin'?!"

"Well, I understand now that I see why ya wasn't there," Jim murmured. "Take him t' the doctor before worryin' 'bout work. It'll be there when ya get back. I can have Ali come watch him while ya work if ya want."

"Yeah, that works. Git yer hide out of bed, Bud. Get dressed, we gotta go."

"You jus' told me t' get in bed."

"That was b'fore I realized how high your fever is. Now get up, Buddy. Sooner ya get up, the sooner ya get it over with."

Bud was quiet for a second.

"That's a good point," he muffled into his pillow.

Tolbert stood and left the room, shaking his head. His brother was something else.

—

Alifair never minded caring for one of her brothers when they got sick. She'd never cared for Bud, though, so she had no idea what to expect.

Bud had wormed his way into her heart and was easily one of her favorite people to be around. He was sweet and kind, and he reminded her of a small innocent child, despite him being nearly as tall as Tolbert and almost thirteen years old.

So when she arrived at Tolbert's home and went inside, she'd thought nothing of the boy that was curled up on the couch under a mountain of blankets.

"Hey, Ali," Tolbert forced a small smile. "He's got the flu. Got a real bad case of it, but he'll be fine. I already gave him his medicine, so you don't have to worry about fightin' with him at all while you're here. The most trouble he'll give ya is if ya touch his blankets. He's hateful and clingy, and the two do not mix well."

"Tolbert, you do realize I've taken care of you while you were sick, right?" Alifair quirked a brow, the corner of her lip tugged upward.

"Yeah, well, he ain't too happy right now. They took some blood and — let's just say he don't like needles very much. I've got a few bruises t' prove it."

Alifair snorted.

"He's watchin' Toy Story, so he should be fine. I don't think he plans t' move anytime soon, so it's likely you'll be watchin' movies all day long."

"Fine by me. Has he ate?"

"No. I can't get him to," Tolbert sighed. "He said he ain't hungry."

"I'll try t' get him t' eat somethin'. Ya have soup?"

"Yeah. I've gotta go b'fore Jim decides t' slap me with a board, but I wish you the best of luck."

—

"Ali," Bud mumbled.

"Yeah, Buddy?" She looked over at him.

"When's Dad comin' back?"

"I don't know, darlin'. I don't think he even knows when he's gonna get t' come home. They got a big order t' fill and they've gotta get it done by Thursday. I guess you'll be seein' me 'til then at the very least."

"Mkay."

Alifair moved to where she knelt beside the couch, brushing his hair off of his face.

"Wanna eat somethin'? I'll make ya some soup."

"I don't think I can keep it down," he mumbled, his hazel eyes meeting Alifair's.

"Wanna try? Ya've gotta eat, honey."

Without thinking, Bud made the remark of, "I've gone longer than a day without eatin' before."

Alifair looked shocked, but she didn't say anything. She only rubbed his flushed cheek, sympathy filling her eyes.

"Ya ain't gotta do that no more. How 'bout this... I'll make ya some soup, an' you eat as much of it as you think you can. Just eat a little bit, that's all I'm askin'. That sound okay t' you, Buddy?"

He nodded mutely. She smiled a little and stood up, leaving the room. Bud stayed where he was; he wasn't fully willing to move yet.

—

Bud didn't move back to his room until after Tolbert got home. And really, it wasn't done by choice. Tolbert got home close to 7:30 and carried Bud to his room after waking him (which didn't do much good — he was asleep again by the time Tolbert laid him on his bed).

So after putting Bud to bed, Tolbert went to his room, grabbed a clean change of clothes, and headed to the bathroom so he could take a shower. He smelled like sweat and sawdust, and he was covered with dirt, grime, and sawdust.

His back ached and his hand was blistered, but he was fine. He had a sick kid to take care of, he didn't have the time to be anything but fine.

—

Later that evening, closer to midnight, Bud came into Tolbert's room. Tolbert had woken up to the sound of his door opening, and had cracked one eye open so he could see his baby brother, who climbed onto the bed and shoved his face in the crook of Tolbert's neck. (Tolbert was lying on his side, and so was Bud, now that he was lying beside his older brother.)

"Wha's wrong, baby?" Tolbert mumbled groggily, wrapping his arms around the boy.

"It hurts, Dad," he whimpered, moving a little closer.

"What hurts?"

"Ev'rythin'."

"Aww, 'm sorry, baby. Can't do nothin' 'bout it, though. You should be fine in a few days."

Bud groaned. When he got sick, it was never just a few days. It was usually a few _weeks._ Tolbert didn't really know that, though, so Bud didn't correct him. He just wanted to sleep.

"What'd ya come in here for?" Tolbert asked softly, rubbing the boy's back.

"Can't sleep," he grunted. "Don't wanna be 'lone neither."

"Oh, so no nightmares or anythin' like that?"

"No. Not this time."

"A'ight. Try t' sleep, Buddy."

—

By the time Friday rolled around, Tolbert was exhausted. Bud had gotten a little better (thankfully) but for some reason, he insisted on sleeping in Tolbert's room. Tolbert didn't care; Bud usually slept in his room whenever he had a nightmare or a flashback or he started thinking about it again and worked himself up to the point he'd have a panic attack, but he'd never known the boy to be so clingy.

At present, he was sleeping. The boy had done nothing the last few days but sleep, eat a little, throw up, sneeze, or cough and complain about it. He was given his medicine, which came with a shower of complaints (and sometimes a fight). Between taking care of Bud and filling the large order at the mill, Tolbert was ready to curl up and sleep for a month.

But he couldn't do that. Bud was still sick.

His fever had gone down, and he didn't complain as much as he used to about his chest and head hurting. He just curled up next to Alifair or Tolbert, and he'd sleep.

Tolbert wished the boy would get well. He didn't mind him being clingy, but he didn't like it when the boy would cough and tears would spill onto his face because it hurt so much.

Bud whined and stirred, blinking a few times as he woke up.

"Dad, why's it so cold?" Bud mumbled, scooting closer to Tolbert.

"Well, 'cause you complained about it bein' too hot before ya went t' sleep, so I turned the thermostat down."

"It's _cold, _Dad."

"I know it is. You want me t' turn it up again?"

"Please."

"A'ight, let me up."

Tolbert got up and shuffled to the hallway, turning the thermostat up before shuffling back.

"You feelin' better?"

"Yeah. 'M just cold," Bud complained, pulling the blanket over his head.

"Here, let me check yer temperature. I'd love for you t' get better, ya know."

Bud huffed and uncovered his head, sticking his tongue out at Tolbert. Tolbert shook his head and put the thermometer in Bud's mouth.

He was more than relieved to see that Bud's fever had broken, had even laughed a little.

"Well, yer gettin' better. The fever broke."

"Dang. Usually, I'm down for _weeks _when I get sick."

"Yeah? Ya have medicine that helps this time, Bud. That's why people go t' the doctor when they get sick."

"Whatever. I think I'm gonna go shower."

—

Bud got in the truck, a sorrowful expression on his face. He didn't say anything; he just put his seatbelt on and turned his head toward the window.

"What's wrong, Buddy?"

"Nothin'," he shook his head.

"Yeah, I totally believe that when ya look like someone's kicked your puppy," Tolbert remarked. "What's wrong?"

"They're jus' sayin' stuff again," Bud mumbled, shifting slightly. "You'd think I'd be used to it by now."

"What'd they say? It's gotta be bad if it's botherin' you."

"Don't worry 'bout it. I'm just overreacting."

Tolbert, deciding to take his word despite the doubt he felt, nodded and shifted the gearshift to reverse.

—

Tolbert looked up at Bud, who'd sat at the kitchen table to do his homework. That struck Tolbert as odd since Bud always did his homework in his room, but he didn't question it. He only cooked dinner since he knew Bud refused to eat lunch at school and he wasn't really a breakfast person.

Dinner and maybe (keyword being maybe) something before he went to bed was all that Bud really ate. He ate more on weekends; he would eat lunch then, and Tolbert couldn't figure out why he would eat lunch at home but not at school.

"You okay, kid?" Tolbert queried, startling the boy.

"Y-yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Bud lied.

It was a blatant lie and Tolbert knew it. He had a feeling that Bud knew that he knew it too.

"H-hey, question," Bud spoke up quickly.

"A'ight. What is it?"

"Why'd you decide t' adopt me?"

"That's a weird question," Tolbert blinked in surprise.

Bud hung his head, his face flushed red.

"I adopted you b'cause I don't want to lose you. Ya know that, Bud, why're ya askin' me?"

"D'you really want me? I mean, I get it if ya don't, but... d'ya really want me t' legally be your son?"

"Bud, what's got int' you? You know I do."

"I was just askin'," he shrugged.

"You never act like this, Bud. What's wrong?"

"Nothin'!" he insisted. "I was jus' wond'rin', alright?"

"Alright! I'm sorry, geez."

—

**_November 2014_**

"Hello, I need t' speak to Randolph McCoy, Junior's father, please."

"Yer speakin' to him," Tolbert responded curtly, signing one of the sheets in front of him. "How may I help you?"

"I'm the secretary at your son's school... he's gotten himself int' some trouble. I'm afraid yer needed here," the young lady rambled nervously.

"What kinda trouble?" Tolbert sighed.

"Well... I'm afraid I can't disclose that over the phone. Can you come in or should I call someone else?"

"No, no, I'll be there."

"Alright. Thank you."

Tolbert sighed as he hung up. He quickly scribbled a note for Jim, letting him know where he'd gone, and got up and left. He didn't know what Bud had done, but it must have been bad if the school was calling.

—

Bud kept his eyes focused on the floor. His principal, Mr. Smith, wasn't happy with him or William, but William had already been picked up. He was starting to think that maybe no one could come since he knew most of the people on his emergency contact list had to work.

The door opened and Tolbert stepped inside, closing it behind him.

Bud's heart was racing. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but he was fighting a losing battle. His breath hitched when Tolbert touched his shoulder. Tolbert noticed and let his hand fall, sitting in the chair beside Bud.

"Mr. McCoy, we have never had any trouble out of your son, but for _some reason, _he thought it would be a good idea to start a fight with someone much stronger than he is. And, as protocol is, both boys receive out of school suspension as a punishment. Your boy has received ten days."

Tolbert looked over at Bud, who refused to meet his gaze.

"I hope this won't happen again."

"I'm sure it won't," Tolbert forced a tight smile. "C'mon, kid."

Bud grabbed his backpack and followed Tolbert out of the office. He hoped Tolbert wasn't angry with him. He hadn't done anything; William and his friends had lied to him and said that he'd started a fight with William and that he'd tried to fight back. William received three days of out of school suspension and Bud received ten. He wouldn't tell Tolbert that, though.

They walked out of the school and across the parking lot to Tolbert's pickup, getting in it without saying so much as a word. Tolbert sighed and turned the key in the ignition, glancing at Bud.

"What happened?" Tolbert asked plainly, turning his head to back up.

"Got beat up," Bud replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Ain't no big deal. Not the first time I've ever been beat up an' it certainly ain't the worst—"

"Bud," Tolbert grasped his hand to stop the boy's rambling. "What happened?"

"William beat me up," he said quietly. "His stupid friends lied n said I started it, and when he was asked, he "confirmed" what they said. So it was declared a fight and I got suspended."

"Are you okay?" Tolbert queried, glancing at Bud, who was squeezing Tolbert's hand.

"No, not really," he mumbled. "Brought back a lotta things I wanna forget, Dad. I can't — it won't go away."

"You're okay, Buddy, you're okay. Just breathe for me, 'kay? _Breathe._"

"I don't wanna r'member," he cried, hanging his head while his breathing hitched in his throat.

"I know, baby, I know. You're okay, breathe, Buddy, breathe." Tolbert rubbed Bud's hand with his thumb, slowing down and hitting the turn signal. "You're okay."

Tolbert turned off of the highway onto the backroad that led to his home.

"I'll take ya home n clean ya up. I'm afraid yer gonna have t' hang out in the office 'til quittin' time. Jim's gonna kill me anyway if he didn't read that note."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

Bud nodded. He supposed he could hang out in the office for a while. He didn't mind it.

—

Bud hissed when Tolbert pressed a damp cloth to his throbbing eye.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"'S okay, Dad. Not your fault."

"Since you're in the mood t' talk t'day, why were you askin' all those questions not too long ago? Like if I want ya an' why I decided t' adopt you?"

"William jus' said some things. I was bein' dumb, I let him get to me." Bud winced when Tolbert moved the cloth to his busted nose, hissing, "Ouch."

"Sorry, darlin'," Tolbert apologized. "What'd he say to ya?"

"He... he said that I'm nothin' but an unwanted orphan. That ya really don't want or love me... you're only doin' it 'cause ya feel like ya have to since Mama n Poppy are dead," Bud confessed. "That ya really don't like me callin' ya Dad, but ya won't say anythin'. He said I'm a terr'ble excuse of a son, too. Even if I am adopted."

"Well, none of that's true. Ya ain't no unwanted orphan. You know me, Buddy. If I didn't want to adopt you, I wouldn't've. I don't care for you callin' me Dad. It would be weird if ya didn't now. Ya've done it for almost a year now an' I don't mind it at all. I think yer a wonderful son. I love ya very much, Buddy. Ain't nobody ever gonna love you as much as I do."

"Y' mean it?"

"Yeah, baby," Tolbert nodded, ripping a bandaid open and covering the cut on Bud's brow. "I mean it."

"I don't know why they're always sayin' stuff t' me," Bud sniffled. "I ain't ever bothered them."

"Some people ain't happy unless they're makin' other people miserable. It's terrible, but it's true. They think bringin' people down makes them look cool or whatever, but really, it don't. It makes 'em look like they're jealous, in my opinion," Tolbert shrugged. "Here, turn your head. Let me make sure I got all of 'em."

Bud turned his head.

"Yeah, you're good. Ya wanna change before we go or ya just wanna wear that?"

"I think I'll change. Pretty sure he tore the back of my shirt."

"Okay. Go change, darlin'."

Bud got up and shuffled out of the living room, going to his room and kicking off his sneakers. He changed into a flannel and a pair of jeans, pulling on his boots before grabbing his phone charger and stuffing it in his pocket.

He had decided to dress down to a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants for school. He pocketed his phone, which he'd set on top of the dresser, and headed out, hurrying to the living room.

"Ya ready t' go?" Tolbert looked up at him.

"Yeah," Bud nodded. "I don't look too bad, do I?"

"Well... you're bordering the mummy look, but ya look fine t' me."

"You think you're _sooo _funny."

—

**_May 2017_**

Bud had started to work at the timbering company. He was turning sixteen in a few months, and Jim had said he would give him a job if he wanted it. So Bud accepted.

It was his first day and Tolbert had said he would be fine, and that it would probably be best if he wore old clothes. "Trust me, kid, ya best wear the clothes ya don't mind ruinin'. Timberin's hard work an' it ain't done without gettin' covered with dirt, grime, n sawdust."

So Bud wore his favorite old t-shirt (that had a hole or two in it) and a pair of stained up jeans. Jim had sent him up to the mill and told him to find Calvin. Calvin would be the one showing him how to stack the lumber and label it.

He trekked up the hill to the mill, scratching the back of his neck while he surveyed the area for his older brother.

"Over here, Bud!" Calvin shouted, grabbing his attention. He was standing off to the right and waved an arm above his head so Bud would see him.

Bud walked over to him, being careful to avoid the tools that were strewn around.

"We broke down earlier. Jim just ain't had time t' pick everything up again. Let's getcha started, kid."

—

Pharmer opened the door to the office, stepping inside and closed the door, his eyes landing on Tolbert, who sat at the desk.

"Tolbert... ya best get up t' the mill. Somethin's wrong with Bud."

"Whaddaya mean somethin's wrong with Bud?" Tolbert demanded. Pharmer flinched. He'd never liked it when Tolbert got mad and raised his voice.

"I don't know, Tolbert, I don't know! He just — Cal got mad an' started yellin', an-an' Bud backed int' the corner. I tried talkin' to him, but he ain't a-listenin' t' me," Pharmer explained swiftly.

"_Oh God,_" Tolbert breathed. "You stay in here. If Jim comes back n asks, you tell him what's goin' on, understood?"

Pharmer nodded and moved out of Tolbert's way.

Tolbert ran up to the mill, rushing over to where Calvin and Bud were.

"Oh my God, I didn't — what's wrong with him?" Calvin looked at him, fear shining in his eyes.

"Nothin's wrong with him," Tolbert answered quickly, bending down in front of Bud. "Hey, Buddy. Buddy, hey, look at me. There ya go, you're okay, breathe."

"I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't — I can't do it!" Bud curled up into a ball. "I'm so sorry, please don't hurt me."

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. It's hard, I know it is. No one's gonna hurt ya, Buddy." Tolbert reached out and placed his hands on his biceps. "You're okay, you're safe. It's just your first day, it's okay t' mess up."

"I'm sorry, I'm so s-orry!"

"Bud, listen t' me, okay?" Tolbert moved to where he was next to him, gently lifting the boy's head. "Look at me, there ya go. You're okay. No one's mad at ya, no one's gonna hurt ya. _You're okay._"

Bud put his hands over Tolbert's, breathing heavily while he tried to catch his breath.

"Let-let go," he stammered. "Let go, please, let go."

"You're okay. Breathe, Bud," Tolbert instructed gently, taking hold of Bud's hands.

"L-let go! Let go, _please, _let go!" Bud tried to wrench his hands out of Tolbert's grasp. "Let me go, please, let go."

"Woah, woah, what's wrong?" Tolbert gently rubbed Bud's hands.

"I'm — I'm scared," Bud whimpered. "Don't hurt me, _please, _don't hurt me."

"I'm not gonna hurt ya. Who am I?"

"Tolbert."

"Have I ever hurt ya?"

"N-no."

"Ya really think I'm gonna start now?" Tolbert quirked a brow. Bud silently shook his head. "Breathe for me, okay? Yer startin' ta scare me."

Bud drew in a deep breath, coughing after he did so. He took another breath, his eyes focused on Tolbert.

"I'm — I'm sorry, I didn't — oh God, I can't," Bud sobbed.

"Yer okay, yer okay. It happens, baby. It's yer first day, I don't expect ya t' do everythin' right," Tolbert spoke softly.

"I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to," Bud buried his face in Tolbert's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Quit apologizin', baby. It's okay," Tolbert cooed, wrapping his arms around him before pulling him to his feet. "It's okay, I promise ya it's okay. Cal ain't ever gonna hurt ya, even if he does lose his temper."

"Yeah, Buddy. I didn't mean t' scare ya," Calvin spoke up. "Heck, I didn't know he'd react like that or I wouldn't've yelled."

"It's fine, Cal," Tolbert shook his head. "He's just... he's not like ev'ryone else n that's fine. We just gotta figure out a diff'rent way t' do it now. Yellin' won't help."

"Yeah, I figured that out."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know, I'm so sorry," Bud sniffled.

"Ya didn't know what, Buddy?" Tolbert took a step back.

"Didn't — didn't know I labeled 'em all wrong, I'm so sorry."

"Oh, Buddy, is that all? Geez, I thought you'd done somethin' terrible."

Bud wiped his eyes and fixated his gaze on the ground.

"I can't, Dad," he whispered, his voice trembling.

"Yeah, ya can. Cal, do me a favor an' take over the office. I'll teach him, a'ight?"

"Y-yeah. That's prob'ly best anyways," Calvin agreed. "I'm sorry, Buddy."

"'S okay."

Tolbert waited until Calvin was out of earshot.

"So... that knucklehead yell at ya?"

"Uh-huh," Bud nodded.

"Where's the lumber ya mislabeled? I'll show ya how easy of a fix it is."

"Right there," Bud pointed to the stack beside Tolbert.

"Ah, yes. See, this order's for Miller Construction, not Phillips."

"Oh..."

"The _next _load you stack is for Phillips. Here, how 'bout you print some new labels while I get these ones off, hm?"

"Okay."

—

Bud looked over at Tolbert, who was doing something on his laptop.

"Whatcha starin' for?"

"Question."

"What?"

"What'd Mama n Poppy look like?"

Tolbert looked over at him and blinked.

"You mean ya don't know?" Tolbert asked quietly. Bud shook his head. "Oh my God. Hang on."

Tolbert closed his laptop and set it on the coffee table, standing and moving to the shelf in the corner. He clicked his tongue and grabbed a photo album off the shelf, moving back to the couch and sitting down.

He opened the album, finding a photo of Ran'l and Bud when Ran'l had first returned home.

"That's Poppy?" Bud looked up at Tolbert.

"Mhm. That was right after he came home. That's you in his arms."

"Oh my God," Bud breathed.

Tolbert turned the page, finding several different photos. One was of Sally in the hospital with Bud, and another of Ran'l and Sally before he left for the last time.

"There's Mama with you, an' there's Mama n Poppy b'fore he left the last time," Tolbert informed him, pointing to each photo. "And... the last fam'ly photo. Poppy set ya on his knee for it. Aunt Patty took that one."

"Mama's got... Pharmer?" Bud guessed.

"Mhm. Jim's got Cal on his hip 'cause he wouldn't stand still. I thought Aunt Patty was gonna smack him," Tolbert laughed, smiling sadly. "It was taken a week before it happened."

"Wow."

"Poppy'd been so happy that day," Tolbert recalled, breathing a laugh and wiping at his eyes. "Heck, he — he wouldn't let ya go. He held onto ya the whole time we was there, an' Aunt Patty got mad at him 'cause she wanted t' hold ya."

Bud laughed a little.

"Mama gave him a scoldin' one we were all outside. We had two diff'rent vehicles 'cause there was so many of us. Poppy drove a truck n Mama had a SUV. You was in the truck with Poppy n me n Rosie. I think we had Pharmer too."

"Geez," Bud mumbled. Tolbert snorted.

"It was... it was a good day. Dang, I hate it when I cry."

"Ain't nothin' wrong with cryin'. I do it all the time."

Tolbert laughed.

"Ya wanna look at the rest of these?"

"Yeah."

"Here. I've got t' finish the accountin' for the week." Tolbert passed the album to Bud.

Bud took it, gently turning the page.

"Just ask if ya don't know who someone is, 'kay?"

"A'ight. Thanks."

"Don't mention it. If I woulda known ya didn't know what they looked like, I woulda showed ya sooner."

—

Tolbert stuffed his hands in his pockets, walking along the path in the cemetery. He strayed off of it after a moment, approaching his parents' gravestone.

He knelt down, laying the flowers on the grave.

"Hey, Mama... hey, Poppy," he whispered. "Been a while, huh? Life's been real hectic, I'm sorry. The other day, I found out Bud didn't know what y'all looked like, so I showed him. He—he learned a lot 'bout y'all.

"Ya'd be proud of him, Poppy. Bud's such a good kid that I'm real proud of him. Reckon I ain't got no right since he ain't really my kid, but-but he is legally, an' I have t' thank ya both for changin' your minds that night b'fore you left. If ya hadn't... he'd be buried out here too."

Tolbert stopped and sniffled.

"I'm sorry I ain't been out here in s' long. But... but I adopted Bud a few years back. I think I forgot t' mention that last time I was here. Sorry it took so long t' tell ya. But... but I like it. I like havin' a kid, even if he really ain't mine. He don't know I'm here; he got dragged downtown with Rose and Ali t' do some shoppin'. Coulda sworn he was ready t' beg me t' save him," he chuckled, his voice thick with emotion.

"Oh God, he's such a good kid. Got int' some trouble not too long ago, but he didn't really do nothin'. He gets bullied n he don't complain, but I know it bothers him. They've started makin' fun 'cause he's adopted. Reckon people who ain't ever been through somethin' like this don't understand. Don't make it right, but I reckon I can see they don't understand it.

"I—I can't stay long. Next time... next time, I'll bring him with me. He ain't ever been out here, an' it's mostly my fault. He's been livin' with me for a few years now n I ain't ever brought him out here. But I will next time. I promise. I miss y' both s' much," Tolbert sobbed, letting his fingertips brush against the stone. "I love ya."


	10. Little Wonders (Modern AU)

**_March 2004_**

Tolbert looked down when someone started to tug on his sleeve, finding Bud. He smiled and lifted the boy onto his lap, planting a kiss on top of his head. Tolbert didn't say anything — it wouldn't have done him any good. Bud was deaf.

But he had an appointment to go back to the doctor sometime this week to receive hearing aids. From the time the McCoys had discovered Bud was having issues hearing them (late August of 2002) until the time he was diagnosed (April of last year), they had struggled to understand why he never listened to what they said, acknowledged them, or just outright ignored what he was told to do.

Tolbert brushed Bud's long hair out of his eyes and sighed. He didn't think it was right that a one-year-old child went completely deaf. But it didn't matter; Bud was still loved as much as he had been before he started having problems with his ears well over a year ago.

"Reckon we'll have t' cut yer hair, youngin'. It's gettin' a little long," Tolbert breathed a laugh, the little boy looking up at him in bewilderment. "You have no idea what I'm sayin', I know. Try t' treat ya as normal as I can, though. Let's give ya a haircut. Ya need it n I'm sure Mama agrees."

"Mama agrees wit' what?" Ran'l asked as he walked into the living room.

"Bud needs a haircut," Tolbert replied, looking over at his father.

"He does, don't he?" Ran'l muttered, pulling his fingers through the boy's thick hair. "You doin' it this time?"

"Yeah. Unless you wanna."

"Nah. I'll hold him still for ya. Wanna do it outside? Yer Mama's less likely t' kill us that way. Hair ain't all over the kitchen floor."

"Sure," Tolbert laughed.

—

Tolbert was sprawled on his bed, a blanket wrapped around his waist. He was waiting for Ran'l and Sally to return home, as they'd taken Bud to his appointment, and he was getting impatient.

But while he waited, he had plenty of homework to keep him occupied. Tolbert clicked his tongue, reading over the math problem before attempting to solve it. He had a feeling the answer was wrong, but when he was told he had to learn how to do it from the book and it wasn't going to be explained, he felt it was more his teacher's fault than it was his.

He looked up when his door opened, revealing Sally with his little brother, who squirmed in her arms until she set him down. Tolbert raised an inquisitive brow, his eyes fixated on his mother. She nodded slightly.

Bud grunted and smacked at Tolbert, who breathed a laugh before shifting to a sitting position and lifting him up, setting him on the bed beside him before closing his textbook.

"Hey, Buddy."

Bud looked up at him, blinking a few times.

"Whatcha lookin' at me like that for? Ya hear me?"

Tolbert didn't protest when the boy climbed onto his lap, putting his head against his chest near his heart. Tolbert didn't think anything of it until the boy gasped and jerked back. Tolbert gave him an odd look before the boy pressed his ear to Tolbert's chest again, only to react in the same way, this time with his brows furrowed.

"Mama..." Tolbert trailed off, looking up to find that his mother wasn't there anymore. "Bud, what in the world are you a-doin'?"

Bud pressed his ear to Tolbert's chest a third time, pulling back again with his brows furrowed. And when he smacked the spot where Tolbert's heart was, Tolbert understood.

"Hey, hey, stop that. I need that t' work, kiddo."

Bud made a noise in the back of his throat.

"It's just my heartbeat, baby. You got one too. Ev'ryone's got one so long as they're alive."

Tolbert knew that it wasn't likely that Bud understood anything he was saying, but he still felt like he had to explain it. Bud blinked a few times and put his head against Tolbert's chest again. He didn't move this time; he just laid there with his head on Tolbert's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

He liked the sound. It was calming. He didn't really know what a heartbeat was, but he liked the sound of it. He liked the sound of Tolbert's voice, too. Just like he liked Sally and Ran'l's voices as well. He didn't really understand what they were saying to him, but he liked to hear them talk.

Bud's eyes fluttered closed when Tolbert started combing his fingers through his hair. He hummed and scooted a little closer, earning a quiet giggle from his older brother.

Tolbert gathered the boy in his arms and stood up, untangling himself from the blanket before sitting down again. He laid Bud down before moving his books and pencil off of the bed. He laid down next to Bud, pulling the covers up and covering both of them.

Bud scooted closer to Tolbert, laying his head on his chest and hearing the steady beat of Tolbert's heart. Tolbert started to play with the boy's hair, letting out an amused huff when Bud started fighting to stay awake.

Bud's bed was in the corner on the other side of the room, but he refused to sleep in it. Tolbert didn't know why, but he had stopped trying to get Bud to sleep in his own bed. He would grow out of it eventually.

He glanced down at him, finding that the boy was peering up at him. He blinked a few times but kept his eyes focused on his older brother. He gently nudged him.

"What?" Tolbert asked. Bud nudged him again after he stopped talking. "What, Buddy? I don't know what ya want."

He stuck his bottom lip out in a pout after a moment of silence. Why wouldn't Tolbert keep talking? He nudged him again.

"What d'ya want, baby? I don't know what ya want," Tolbert sighed. Bud whined when he stopped again. "You want me t' talk t' ya? Is that it?"

After he stopped talking again, Bud gently hit him.

"Alright, ya don't have ta hit me. I'll talk if ya want me to. How 'bout a story, hm? It'll help ya sleep. Oh, let's see... what story could I tell ya?"

—

**_October 2007_**

Bud huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, looking up expectantly at Tolbert.

"What?"

"Tha's mean!" He smacked Tolbert's leg, earning a laugh from his older brother.

"Relax, Buddy. Didn't mean nothin' by it. I'm just sayin' that yer headaches might be caused by poor eyesight. Ain't nothin' wrong with needin' glasses, kiddo. A lotta people do."

"R'lly?"

"Yeah, really. How 'bout this... I'll get Mama or Poppy t' make ya an appointment, an' I'll take ya to it. Sound good?"

Bud nodded.

Shortly after receiving his hearing aids, Bud started to talk. He caught on fast and was up to the level a normal six-year-old was, and his family was proud of him. He hadn't started talking until he was almost three and he talked better than most at his age.

"Good. Now get yer butt t' bed." Tolbert gently smacked the back of Bud's head. "Mama'll kill me if I let ya stay up any longer."

—

**_December 2007_**

Bud wasn't happy in the least. He didn't like the glasses.

So, when he thought he could get by with it, he would take them off. Tolbert was never around when he did — that was the only way he could get by with it without getting in trouble.

With his glasses off, Bud sat on the floor in the living room in front of the coffee table, messing with a deck of cards that likely belonged to Tolbert.

"Bud McCoy!"

Bud jumped and whipped around, finding Tolbert.

"Git yer glasses back on!"

"But they hurt my head," he whined.

"'Cause ya ain't used to 'em," Tolbert softened his voice while he knelt down next to him. "Ya've gotta wear 'em t' get used t' 'em or your head'll never stop hurtin' when ya put 'em on."

"I don't like 'em," he stated, turning his head back toward the coffee table.

"I don't care if ya like 'em. Ya need 'em."

Bud, thinking he could get by without Tolbert noticing what he was doing, brought his hands up to his ears.

"Uh-uh!" Tolbert exclaimed, grasping the boy's wrists and pulling them away from his ears. Bud huffed and pouted. "You get mad at me all you want. You're gonna wear your glasses and ya ain't gonna turn your hearin' aids down."

"But _Tolbert,_" he groaned.

"Don't ya _but Tolbert _me. Ya need yer glasses, Buddy. An' ya look right handsome with 'em on." Tolbert reached over, grabbing the red and blue frames. "Here, put 'em back on. The longer ya wear 'em, the better."

Bud reluctantly did as he was told. He _hated _his glasses. He didn't mind the hearing aids as much since he couldn't hear a single thing without them, but his glasses? He could see without them. Sure, it was blurry, but he could see.

"Don't like 'em," he grumbled.

"I know," Tolbert murmured sympathetically. "When ya get a little older, we'll get ya some contact lenses. Nobody'll even know you're wearin' them. Yer just a little too young t' use those right now, so you're stuck with the glasses. You'll get used to 'em."

Bud reached up toward his ear again. Tolbert caught his wrist.

"Stop that!"

—

**_May 2016_**

Bud sat in the nurse's office, tapping his foot. He was (impatiently) waiting for someone to pick him up since he was sick, and he just couldn't make it through the rest of the school day. He didn't know who the nurse had called, but he assumed it was one of his parents or Tolbert. They were the only ones that they ever called since they all had the habit of answering their phones when the school called.

So when Ran'l walked into the office, he was a little surprised. Ran'l usually sent Sally after him since he had a timbering company to run, and Ran'l hardly ever came down to the school to pick him up.

Bud didn't pay attention to the conversation he had with the nurse. He kept his eyes focused on his father, who was dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans with his sneakers. Ran'l hardly ever dressed like that.

"C'mon, son."

Bud stood up, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He stumbled into Ran'l, who tightly gripped his son's arms to keep him upright.

"Sorry, sorry. Got dizzy," he mumbled.

"It's okay. Ya good now?" Ran'l lowered his voice to a whisper. Bud nodded. "A'ight. Let's getcha home, Buddy."

He followed his father to his beat-up cobalt blue pickup truck, getting in on the passenger side. He set his backpack in the floorboard, looking over at Ran'l while he turned the key.

"So... we need t' make a stop at MedExpress or not?" Ran'l queried. He trusted his son's judgment and wouldn't force him to go unless he felt that Bud absolutely needed to.

"Nah," Bud shook his head. "I'll jus' go home. I think I can sleep it off."

"Ya looked awful shocked t' see me. I take a day off too, ya know. I don't work seven days a week."

"Thought Sunday was yer day off," Bud mumbled, shifting slightly.

"No. I take one day, jus' like the rest of ya do," Ran'l chuckled. "Tolbert's workin' in my place t'day."

"Mmm..."

"Did ya feel alright this mornin'?" Ran'l glanced at his youngest son.

"Not really, no."

"Why didn't ya say somethin'?"

"Thought it was jus' my allergies actin' up," Bud shrugged lightly. "It wa'n't this bad this mornin'. It was just... I felt stuffy, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know what ya mean," Ran'l nodded. Bud sneezed and coughed shortly after. "Bless ya."

"Thank ya," he grumbled.

"Oh, don't be gettin' grumpy. We'll give ya some medicine n put ya t' bed once we get home."

"Poppy, the only thing we have is NyQuil."

"An' it'll help you sleep."

"That's fair."

Ran'l breathed a laugh and shook his head. Bud had the tendency to get hateful and clingy when he was sick, and from the looks of it, he would hit the hateful stage first.

"My head hurts, Poppy."

"I'm sorry, son. We'll be home in a few minutes."

"Would it be wrong t' take my hearin' aids out b'fore I go in? Don't think I can handle all the noise."

"You do what you think's best. I won't stop ya."

"Poppy?"

"Yes, Bud?"

"Yer amazin'."

—

Bud sighed as they pulled in the driveway, turning off his hearing aids before taking them out. He could see Ran'l laughing, and promptly signed: _Shut up._

That only made his father laugh harder. Bud rolled his eyes and unbuckled his seatbelt, sliding out of the truck and grabbing his backpack. He closed the door and made his way to the front porch, where his mother was standing with her broom, obviously taking a break from her daily chores.

He signed a hello, earning a strange look. He opened his hand, allowing her to see the hearing aids, and she nodded, understanding why he was signing instead of talking.

Ran'l placed a hand on Bud's shoulder, explaining what was going on to Sally before leading the boy inside. He went upstairs to his room, putting his backpack in the corner before crossing to his nightstand, laying the hearing aids on it before taking his contacts out.

He moved to his dresser, pulling out a pair of basketball shorts and changing into them, tossing his shirt and his jeans into the hamper. Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he turned around, finding Ran'l with a dose of NyQuil. He pulled a face and reluctantly took it, making a disgusted face, much to his father's amusement.

He shuffled to his bed and got in it, pulling the covers up to his shoulder before he turned on his side. Ran'l ruffled his hair before leaving the room, leaving Bud alone.

—

"Flip a coin?" Calvin suggested while looking at Jim.

"Sure. I call tails."

"Heads."

"What're you two doin'?" Pharmer asked, leaning against the doorway.

"Seein' who has t' take care of Bud. He's in a mood that could put Tolbert's bad moods t' shame," Calvin informed him, digging a quarter of out his pocket.

"What makes it worse is that he took his hearin' aids out, so we have no idea what he wants. He won't even sign to us," Jim added.

"You two are bein' ridiculous," Pharmer remarked, rolling his eyes. "This is Bud we're talkin' about."

"Yeah, an' he's hateful."

"You would be too if you were sick."

"Tolbert can handle him when he's like this. Where's he?"

"He went home. He don't know Bud's sick an' we're gonna try t' keep it that way. Poppy's hopin' he sleeps whatever it is off."

"So he leaves us with him?" Calvin remarked dryly.

"Oh, quit yer whinin'. You should know by now that he gets hateful n clingy when he's sick." Pharmer crossed the room, gently shaking Bud's shoulder.

He blinked a few times, his eyes focusing on Pharmer and his brows furrowing. Pharmer motioned for him to scoot over, and he did, allowing Pharmer to lie down before curling up against him and humming.

"Unbelievable," Calvin muttered under his breath.

"Looks like yer stuck for the night, Pharmer," Jim snorted.

"I don't care. If he ain't no better t'morrow... who wants t' tell Tolbert?"

Jim and Calvin looked at each other. Neither one of them really wanted to tell Tolbert. Tolbert was extremely protective of Bud, and he'd kill whoever told him if he found out they'd known about it for two days.

Tolbert had always been that way. He'd told a bunch of children and teenagers off more than his brothers could count, but he didn't care. They had been making fun of Bud and picking on him, and he didn't care if they were in the church parking lot or not. If they were stupid enough to make fun of Bud or pick on him, Tolbert didn't care to put them in their place.

Tolbert had told a few of the adults off too and was marked as rude, but he didn't care. No one made fun of Bud and his inability to hear. They especially didn't do it when he was around to hear it. It never ended well for them if he was.

So really, Calvin and Jim felt their reasoning for not wanting to tell Tolbert was justified. Tolbert had the tendency to lose his temper when he found out they'd been hiding something from him — more specifically, he got angry when he found out they hadn't told him something about his little brother. Neither one of them wanted to be on the receiving end of Tolbert's anger (mostly because they couldn't get him to calm down like Bud and their parents could).

"So... flip a coin?" Calvin asked while scratching the back of his neck. Jim nodded.

—

Tolbert was there the next morning and found it odd that he hadn't seen Bud. Pharmer came downstairs later than usual, and he kept glancing at Calvin, who looked like he wanted to curl up and die.

"Where's Bud?" Tolbert asked once everyone else had taken their seat at the table.

"He's in bed," Ran'l responded. "He ain't feelin' very well."

"He did put his hearin' aids back in this mornin'," Pharmer spoke up. "But that wasn't done without a argument. That boy can sign ridiculously fast, by the way."

Tolbert laughed and shook his head. They hadn't started breakfast and he could still get out of it, so he excused himself and went upstairs, entering Bud's room.

"Hey, kid."

"Mm? Oh, 'ey," Bud forced a small smile.

Tolbert closed the door and walked over to him, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his fingers through his thick locks of honey-brown hair.

"You feelin' any better?"

"Not really, no," Bud mumbled. "Pharmer stayed wit' me last night."

"Oh, did he?"

"Mhm." There was a pause. "Don't think Jim n Cal really wanted t' take care of me yes'day."

"Why?" Tolbert's brows pinched together.

"They got real frustrated 'cause my hearin' aids was out. Didn't wanna sign neither. I jus'... I dunno, Tol," Bud's voice was barely a whisper.

"Ah, ignore them. I don't care if ya got hearin' aids in or not. Yer sick n you should be comfortable."

"Mmph."

Tolbert watched the boy as he hummed and shifted.

"Please don't leave," he murmured after a minute. "I don't wanna be alone."

"I won't," Tolbert assured him. "I'll stay as long as ya want me to."

—

Bud eventually dozed off again. He was running a slight fever, but it wasn't anything to be too concerned about. It was barely above the normal temperature, and Tolbert felt that it wasn't anything he should freak out over.

So with a cold washcloth laying across his forehead, Bud seemed to be sleeping soundly. Tolbert certainly wasn't complaining. Bud seemed to think that most of the family was mad at him because he didn't have his hearing aids in the day before while they took care of him, and he was an emotional mess.

Bud had always been that way. He had extremely low self-esteem and he was extremely self-conscious. Tolbert didn't know the reason why; Bud had never told him the reason for it, but he confided everything else to Tolbert.

Well... everything except the fact he was being bullied, but since that was the reason for his low self-esteem and self-consciousness, he felt that it counted as that.

Tolbert sighed and glanced up at the boy, who was still sleeping, before focusing on the screen again. Accounting wasn't his favorite thing, but he didn't mind the extra money it gave him. While all five McCoy boys split working the office, Tolbert was the one who did the accounting and took most of the orders. The orders that he didn't take were either taken by Ran'l or Bud, who worked the office more often than not because Ran'l didn't want the fourteen-year-old up around the mill.

Bud had been eager to start working for the company, and while he couldn't legally, Ran'l still paid him just as much as he did the other boys. He acted as the secretary more often than not, filing papers and answering the phone for them while they cut and stacked lumber on the hill. (All it had taken for Ran'l to agree was Bud continuously hanging out in the office for three weeks straight during the summer.)

The most Bud was allowed to do at the mill was change a belt or stack and label lumber, and that was only when one of his brothers insisted on working in the office. Tolbert had been the one to teach him everything he knew thus far, and he had no qualms with teaching the boy everything he knew about the company. Bud was one that liked to learn and he caught on fast, which made it a lot easier for all involved.

Bud groaned and stirred in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open after a second. Tolbert could tell he still didn't feel well, but he got up, catching the cloth as it fell off of his forehead before shuffling toward the door.

"Where you goin'?" Tolbert asked.

"Bathroom."

Tolbert hummed. He should've guessed that.

Bud bumped into the doorway, scowled, moved over a little and continued on his way out of his room. Tolbert chuckled and shook his head.

"Sure ya don't need glasses," he remarked under his breath, despite knowing the boy was likely out of earshot.

Bud came back a moment later, climbing onto his bed and sighing.

"I don't feel good," he complained.

"I know. Have ya ate anything?"

"...No."

"You want some soup or somethin'? I'll make ya somethin'."

"Soup's fine. I haven't thrown up yet n I really don't want to, so let's not risk it," Bud forced a smile. Tolbert laughed a little, closing his laptop and standing. He set it in the chair (which happened to be the one from Bud's desk) and started to leave the room.

He was less than surprised when Bud followed him. Apparently, they'd dealt with him being hateful the night before, and now he was just clingy and would follow whoever was taking care of him around like a lost puppy. Tolbert didn't mind it — it was just how Bud was when he got sick.

They walked into the kitchen, finding Sally and Roseanna, who blinked in surprise when she saw her younger brother.

"Sit down," Tolbert murmured softly so only Bud could hear it. He did as he was told while Tolbert moved toward the cabinets, grumbling under his breath while searching for the soup.

"This what yer lookin' for?" Sally spoke up behind him.

Tolbert turned around, seeing his mother holding a can of tomato soup.

"Yeah, that's it," Tolbert grumbled. "Thank ya, Mama."

"Don't mention it, Tol." She smiled and patted his shoulder.

A comfortable silence filled the kitchen, none of the four people occupying it daring to say a word. Bud looked like he was half-asleep and Roseanna noticed, but she didn't say anything. Bud would stay awake, she knew he would. He wouldn't have gotten up if he wasn't planning on eating.

"You feelin' any better, baby?" Sally asked him, directing her attention to him.

Bud shook his head. He wasn't any better and he couldn't understand _why. _Bud usually had the capability to sleep off whatever sickness he'd caught, but it didn't seem to be the case this time around.

"I'll go out t'day n get ya somethin' better than NyQuil. I knows ya don't like that stuff, so I'll try t' find somethin' diff'rent."

"Thanks, Mama."

"Yer welcome, baby."

—

Bud was back to normal by the end of the week. Or at least, he was somewhat back to normal. Tolbert had been caught off guard when Bud came downstairs with his glasses on.

"What?" Bud snapped.

"Why're ya wearin' yer glasses?"

"I'm outta contacts," he sighed tiredly, sitting down on the couch beside Tolbert. "Thought I had more than what I did. Now I've gotta wear these stupid nerdy things t' school."

"It won't be too bad. Ya look real smart with 'em on. Ya look right handsome, too."

"Stop it," Bud growled.

"I'm jus' tryin' t' compliment you," Tolbert defended himself.

"Don't. Ain't no compliments for the way I look right now. I hate these stupid things."

"I know ya do."

"Goin' deaf wa'n't bad enough, I had t' get bad eyesight too. Forced t' wear hearin' aids an' glasses, an-an' I hate 'em both. I really do," he ranted, sounding like he was on the verge of tears.

"Bud—"

"Sorry, I'm sorry. It's just a bad day."

Tolbert rubbed his back, not saying so much as a word. Bud didn't complain, keeping his eyes closed and his head hung low.

"I'm sorry I got s' hateful," he said after a moment or two.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Buddy. It's fine."

—

**_December 2016_**

Bud was on the verge of a breakdown. He knew he was. Something wasn't right inside of him and he was about to snap. He didn't know what was wrong with him or why he felt the way that he did, but he kept going. He acted like he was fine, but he was almost certain Tolbert was catching on.

On the first Friday of December, he went to Tolbert's house after school. He'd had a rough day — no thanks to stupid William Johnson and his friends — and he wasn't in the best of moods. So he went to his room in hopes of avoiding a breakdown.

If Tolbert found out about the bullying, he probably wouldn't want to hang out with him. Why would he? Tolbert was always taking up for himself and for Bud and Bud couldn't even stand up to someone his age. He let him insult him, let him hit him, let him tell him that he was worthless, unloved, that he was too fat and a disgusting pig, and that he was a waste of space.

Bud wasn't strong like Tolbert was. Tolbert was much stronger than he was and he couldn't let Tolbert know that. He had to act like he was much stronger than he actually was. Bud wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it up.

What no one knew was that Bud had broken the full body mirror he had at home in his room that morning. He'd cleaned the glass up and left the frame hanging on the back of the door, hoping and praying Sally wouldn't notice. She would just go buy him a new one and he _didn't want it. _He didn't want to look at himself every time he went to open the door.

He shook his head while he sat down at his desk, trying to stay as silent as possible. A thought crossed his mind, and he hated himself for ever thinking of it.

_What if Tolbert hated him?_

It wasn't a pleasant thought by any means. Tolbert was his favorite brother and Bud loved him dearly. He probably loved him more than he should've, but he'd never cared. Tolbert was his older brother who had always taken up for him without a second thought, and to think that Tolbert hated him nearly sent Bud diving head-first into a breakdown.

Bud needed Tolbert. Tolbert was the one person Bud completely trusted, and he just couldn't lose him. Not when Bud was so close to having a breakdown. He didn't know why he was going to have a breakdown but he knew he was going to.

"Buddy? Hey, you wanna get some pizza n have a movie night?" Tolbert asked, leaning against the doorway.

"Yeah, sure," Bud nodded.

"A'ight. Is somethin' wrong, Buddy?"

"No," he denied instantly. "I'm fine."

"I'll let ya know when pizza's here."

—

Bud didn't eat more than half a slice of pizza. Tolbert found that strange since the boy usually ate two or three slices, but he didn't say anything. Bud was always honest with Tolbert and he told him practically everything, so he had no reason to believe Bud wouldn't come to him if something was wrong.

"Tolbert, I... I got homework," Bud muttered as he got up, leaving Tolbert alone in the living room.

Tolbert found that strange too. Bud _never _did his homework on Friday. He did it Sunday evening. That was the way Bud always did his homework on weekends. He enjoyed Friday and Saturday, then worked on it on Sunday.

So Tolbert turned off the TV and sighed as he gathered the paper plates and took them to the kitchen, tossing them in the trash. He went back to the hallway, walking to Bud's room and gently knocking on the door.

"It's open."

Tolbert opened the door and closed it behind him.

"You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Bud pulled a confused face, looking up at Tolbert.

"You're actin' strange," Tolbert answered, shrugging lightly as he moved to Bud's bed and sat on the edge of it. "Ya never do homework on Friday."

"Have more than usual," Bud fibbed, his heart thundering against his rib cage.

Oh God, Tolbert was catching on. He was going to figure it out and he wouldn't want Bud to be around him anymore and—

"Kid, I can hear you thinkin' all the way over here. What's eatin' ya up?"

"Nothin'," he responded harshly.

"Bud, I know you. I know when somethin's wrong," Tolbert stated in a soft voice.

"Nothin's wrong, Tolbert," Bud insisted, his voice trembling.

He couldn't be honest with him this time. Tolbert would see that they were right; that he was worthless and stupid and a disgusting pig. He didn't want that, he didn't want that at all and he just wanted to keep it all to himself. He was fine, he didn't need to bother anybody with his problems.

"Bud—"

"Stop it!" Bud yelled. "Just _stop, _okay?!"

He stood up, knocking the chair down on accident. He didn't bother to pick it up, though. He started to pace.

"I don't — _God, _ya don't get it. There's — there's something about me that makes ev'rybody hate me. I don't know what it is and I'm tryin' my best t' keep everyone from hatin' me, but I don't think it's doin' much good. I... oh God, he was right. He was right, oh my God."

"Bud..." Tolbert got up and walked over to him, gently placing his hands on Bud's shoulders. "What in the world are ya talkin' 'bout, Buddy? No one hates ya."

"Yes they do, oh my God, they do. He—he was right, oh God," Bud heaved a sob.

"Bud, darlin', what are you talkin' about? Who is he?"

"William."

"Johnson?"

"Yeah, yeah that's him."

"That jerk that made fun of you in front of me that once? I doubt he's right about anything, Buddy."

"But he is, Tolbert, _he is! _I... I try, y'know? I try my hardest to keep my mouth shut and just take it. He's said so many things n they're all true. I mean, look at me, Tol. Mama n Poppy gave me Poppy's name an' I ain't done a single thing t' make them proud of me. Heck, Tol, they don't even want me anymore."

"Bud—"

"They don't! They don't want me, Tolbert, and I can't blame 'em for it. I ain't done nothin' but cause trouble an—an' they don't deserve any of that. They deserve t' have a son much better than me. They need someone way better than me."

"There's nothin' wrong with you. We love ya jus' the way ya are."

"Don't say that, please," Bud's voice dropped to a whisper. "That means ya care, an' ya really shouldn't care about me."

"Why not?" Tolbert inquired, deciding it would be best to find out why Bud felt that way.

"_Look at me. _I'm not good enough for them," Bud let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not good enough for anybody. Heck, Tolbert, I'm — I'm too tall, I'm too fat, I'm stupid and I'm worthless, and—and no one seems ta get that. I can't do nothin' t' make Mama n Poppy proud of me. Got yelled at the other day 'cause I'm failin' again. I just — I can't make my grades come back up. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Tolbert was starting to figure it out. Bud was having a breakdown in front of him and he wasn't sure the boy even realized it. He didn't know how long Bud had been holding everything in, but he was starting to piece together why Bud had busted that mirror in his room.

Sally had called him and told him about what she'd found in his room, had sounded like she was on the verge of tears, and had wondered if he was mad at her over something. Tolbert assured her that that wasn't the case; that Bud wouldn't break something Sally had paid a pretty penny for because he was mad at her. It had to be something else.

What hadn't helped with that was the fact that Ran'l and Sally had been having trouble with Bud and his attitude. He snapped at them and talked back, he would ignore them and go on to his room, slamming and locking the door behind him, and he would just disappear. No one knew what was wrong with him. He had even bit Roseanna's head off when she had accidentally bumped into him. The whole family knew something was wrong with Bud. He shut everybody out and snapped the instant he felt they were too close. Tolbert couldn't figure out what was wrong with him.

And now he knew. Bud had been about three steps away from a breakdown when he broke that mirror. Bud had been trying his hardest to keep it all together, and he couldn't do that if they were constantly pestering him. The McCoys were a family that believed in tough love; they constantly picked on each other and insulted each other, and now Tolbert was thinking that maybe they'd insulted Bud a little too much.

"Bud... what'd ya break yer mirror for?" Tolbert asked softly.

"I couldn't look at it anymore. Ain't nothin' but a failure anyways, why remind myself of that every time I go to open my door? I can't — oh God, Mama's mad at me, ain't she? She — she... Oh God, Tolbert, I've never had Mama mad at me b'fore."

He was silent for a moment, his eyes widening as he paled and realized that Sally would have told Ran'l about it by now.

"Oh my God, Poppy. Poppy's gonna be mad at me! Oh God, I don't — I don't want the belt again, Tolbert. Oh God, what have I done? Poppy's gonna _kill me! _I can't — I can't go home. I can't, I won't — oh my God, what am I gonna do?"

"Bud, hey, calm down—"

"I'd rather die than go home. That — that could work. I can get out of ev'ryone's way that way n no one'll care or miss me, or—"

"Hey, stop that!" Tolbert raised his voice. Bud blanched and took a step back. "Don't ya talk like that."

"I... I just couldn't look at it anymore and oh my God, Poppy's gonna kill me. I ain't gonna be able t' take whatever's gonna happen at home, Tol. Jus—jus' give me a few days n I swear I'll be outta your hair. I swear to ya, I will be. I just — I don't want t' live anymore. I don't! I've tried n tried, an' nothin's ever changed about any of this! I can't take anymore! I just — I just can't, Tolbert, don't you understand that?! Don't ya understand I can't handle anythin' else?!"

"Woah, Bud, calm down!"

"I don't wanna calm down! I don't wanna live!" Bud moved and tugged at his hair. "I don't — I don't wanna see my stupid reflection! My stupid, stupid reflection!"

He swiped everything off of the top of his dresser. The little glass figurine that he had bought in Logan shattered. Bud didn't seem to notice what he was doing. He swiped everything off of his desk as well, sending everything on it to the floor. Before Tolbert could realize what he was doing, Bud moved to the door and hit the mirror as hard as he could with his fist.

Tolbert forced himself to move and hooked his arms under Bud's shoulders, pulling him back. He'd hit the mirror a few times by then, his knuckles split and bleeding. He moved in front of Bud and tightly wrapped his arms around him.

Bud burst into a sob, wrapping his arms around Tolbert and burying his face in Tolbert's shoulder. His hands clenched the fabric of Tolbert's shirt.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he muffled into his shoulder. "Please don't get mad at me. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Tolbert cooed. "Breathe, Buddy. You've gotta breathe."

"I'm sorry, I'm _so sorry. _I'm sorry I'm not b-better, Tol'ert, 'm sorry! I won't — I won't do it, I promise I won't, please—please don't be mad at m-me," he pleaded.

"I'm not mad, Buddy, I'm not mad at all. Oh God, you scared me," Tolbert breathed, planting a kiss on his baby brother's temple. Bud clung tightly to Tolbert, who held him while he cried. "It's okay, I promise it's okay."

"I'm s' sorry."

"You're okay, it's okay. It's okay, Buddy, I promise."

—

Tolbert sat on the floor with Bud, who had cried until he couldn't anymore. Bud was curled up against him, one hand clenching the fabric of Tolbert's shirt while his head rested against Tolbert's shoulder. He blankly stared at the bed, blinking slowly.

Tolbert held him. He cupped the boy's cheek, causing him to look at him before gently rubbing it with the pad of his thumb.

The door to Bud's room opened, causing Tolbert to look up, seeing Roseanna.

"Watch where ya step. There's glass over there."

Roseanna opted to lean against the doorway, watching Tolbert while he rubbed Bud's cheek.

"What are you two doin' in the floor?"

"I'm gettin' ready t' put him t' bed."

Tolbert stood and lifted the boy, carrying him to his bed and laying him on it, covering him up.

"I'm gonna go getcha somethin' t' drink and the vacuum, alright?"

Bud caught Tolbert's wrist, his eyes pleading with him to stay.

"I'll be back in a minute or two, I promise."

That seemed to appease him. He released Tolbert's wrist and tucked his arm against his chest. Tolbert sighed before leaving the room, Roseanna following him. He went to the kitchen first, opening the fridge and grabbing a Gatorade.

"What happened?" Roseanna asked.

"Keep yer voice down," Tolbert mumbled. "Rose... I swear, he just had a breakdown. I don't know if it was mental or nervous or _what, _but that boy in there just had a breakdown. I don't know if I'll be able to handle him doin' it again. He's wore himself out n I know he's gonna do it again after he rests up."

"What're ya gonna do?"

"I don't know, I dunno," Tolbert shook his head. "I'm only gonna tell Mama n Poppy 'bout it. Lord knows they'll know what t' do. They always do. I just... oh God, Rose, ya shoulda heard some of the things he told me."

"Bad?"

"Really bad," Tolbert nodded. "I'm gonna let William Johnson have it the next time I see him."

"Tolbert, you can't hit him. He's a minor."

"That's why I have younger brothers."

Roseanna rolled her eyes.

"It's really not why you have younger brothers, but whatever."

They returned to Bud's room after grabbing the vacuum, finding that the boy had moved to the far side of the bed and turned onto his side, his back facing the door.

"I'll clean this up," Roseanna spoke softly. "You go help him."

"Not sure I can help much," Tolbert muttered under his breath. He moved to the bed, setting the Gatorade on the nightstand before getting in it.

Bud didn't say a word; he just turned over and scooted closer to Tolbert, letting his older brother wrap his arms around him. They laid there for a few moments, Tolbert rubbing the boy's back while Roseanna vacuumed the shattered glass by the doorway.

"Oh, shoot!" Tolbert exclaimed, getting up and running out of the room.

Bud started to get up as well but was stopped by Roseanna.

"Here, I'll stay here with ya. Don't know where he's goin' or what he's doin', but I'll stay here."

He nodded slightly, laying down again. Roseanna laid down beside him, not minding it when Bud scooted closer and placed his head on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her. He stared at the wall and the door, but he didn't say anything.

Roseanna pulled her fingers through Bud's hair, but it didn't seem to make any difference in his state. It was almost like Bud wasn't even there. He stayed silent and stared blankly at the wall. Roseanna wasn't sure what had caused him to have a breakdown, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know either.

"Rosie..." His voice was raspy, his eyes still focused on the wall across the room.

"Yes, Bud?"

"I think Tol hates me," he admitted quietly.

"Why d' ya think that, Buddy?"

"Don't think he'll wanna be 'round me too much after what I did."

"Tolbert doesn't hate you," Roseanna stated. "He's worried 'bout ya, but he don't hate ya, Buddy."

"Yes, he does. _Oh God, _Rosie, he hates me," Bud cried. "He—he hates me n 's all my fault. I shoulda — shoulda jus' kept it all t' myself. Oh God, what'd I do?"

"Hey, hey, Tolbert doesn't hate you. I promise he doesn't."

She didn't know where Tolbert had gone or why he'd left as quickly as he did, but she hoped he would be back soon.

—

Tolbert walked into the dining room, finding his mother and father at the table.

"I'm so sorry, Poppy, I forgot all about it," Tolbert blurted the second his eyes landed on his father. "I was... ya know what, I'll tell ya somewhere more private. Both of ya. Ya need t' know 'bout this."

"Office," Ran'l mumbled.

"Yeah, that works."

They went to the office of the timbering company. Tolbert closed and locked the door behind them, just to ensure no one else could get in. He moved and leaned against the filing cabinet while his parents sat down.

"I'm real sorry, Poppy. I forgot all about the meetin'. But... but I figured out what's been wrong with Bud." Tolbert tried to start it off in a way that would sort of soften the blow. He didn't want to tell his parents that he'd witnessed his baby brother have a breakdown, but he didn't have much of a choice.

"What?" Sally asked.

"Mama, he ain't mad at you. He ain't mad at nobody. He — oh God, he had a breakdown. Don't really know if it was mental or emotional or-or _what _it was, but it was a breakdown. He thinks y'all are mad at him."

"Oh my God," Ran'l breathed. "That ain't the worst part, is it?"

Tolbert shook his head. It really wasn't. Bud had confessed a lot to him after he finally broke down and started crying, and Tolbert was still trying to process most of it.

"Bud's in a real dangerous mindset right now," Tolbert spoke quietly. "He... thinks y'all don't want him. He said he can't blame ya for it, that you deserve a better son than him. He's got it in his mind that y'all regret him n regret givin' him Poppy's name. He swears he don't do nothin' but cause trouble an' right now, right now he won't listen t' reason."

Tolbert stopped talking for a moment, casting his eyes to the floor and swallowing thickly.

"He... For a minute, he kept ramblin' on and on 'bout how he'd be outta my hair soon 'nough an' that he wouldn't be missed. He stopped, thankfully, an' promised me he wouldn't do anything. He's really scarin' me. All of this is because of William Johnson. Bud's been dealin' with it on his own for years 'cause he thought I'd think William was right and — and he just snapped, Poppy. Bud _snapped._"

"He say anything else?" Ran'l queried, wiping at his eyes.

"He said a whole lot," Tolbert nodded slightly. "He's got it in his mind that he's this hideous person an' I can't get him t' listen t' me. He busted that mirror b'cause he didn't want to look at himself every time he opened the door. He busted the one he has at my place, too. He did it in front of me n I managed t' stop him b'fore he did too much damage to his hand, but he... he broke it. He swiped ev'rythin' off his desk n his dresser; broke that little figurine he bought over in Logan that was made of glass."

"Oh my Lord," Sally murmured. "Is he alright? Ya didn't leave him there, did ya?"

"He's there with Roseanna," Tolbert assured her. "But... I don't think he's okay at all. He — he needs a few days t' get his wits about him, needs somethin' t' help him. I don't know how to help him this time."

"Oh my God," Ran'l mumbled. "He really thinks... we don't want him n we regret him?"

"Yeah, Poppy, he does," Tolbert responded, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know how t' help him."

"He's got an appointment on Tuesday... doctor's 'pointment, that is. Hopefully, Doc will be able t' give him somethin' that'll help him."

"I don't know if he'll take it, Poppy."

"Well... reckon we hope he does. Or try t' talk him into it if he says no."

"Yeah... y'all wanna see 'im? Might help him a bit," Tolbert suggested.

"Yeah. You go on home. We'll be there in a few minutes."

—

By the time Ran'l and Sally got there, Tolbert had cleaned up the rest of the broken glass and had put everything back in its rightful place. He made a mental note to replace Bud's figurine as well, and hopefully, he did it before the boy noticed the other one was broken.

Bud was still blankly staring at the wall, refusing to move from his bed. Roseanna went home after Tolbert got back, and after explaining where he'd gone to Bud, Bud calmed down and returned to staring at the wall.

Ran'l and Sally entered the room, and Tolbert couldn't help but sigh when Bud didn't even acknowledge them.

"What's he doin', Tolbert?" Ran'l asked in a whisper, thinking that maybe the boy was sleeping but he was too far away to tell.

"What he's been doin' since I got back — starin' at the wall. He did it b'fore I left, too, but apparently he thought I hated him n ended up cryin' while I was gone."

"I'll go talk to him," Sally muttered.

"Good luck gettin' him t' say anythin'."

Sally crossed the room, bending down and brushing Bud's hair out of his eyes. He drew back, blinking.

"Mama?"

"Yeah, baby. Ya care if I lay down next t' ya?"

"No," he rasped, scooting so his mother could lay down beside him.

Bud would do whatever she said. She was probably mad at him anyway, so it wouldn't hurt to do what she asked. And while he sincerely doubted that his parents would ever hit him, he believed he deserved much more than them hitting him.

"C'mere," she instructed softly, extending her arm toward him. Bud curled up beside her, placing his head on her shoulder. "Y' think I'm mad at ya for bustin' yer mirror?"

Bud nodded mutely. He did think that. Sally had no reason not to be mad at him; it was an expensive mirror and the McCoys really didn't have the money to spare on it. But she'd bought it for him anyway, and she hadn't complained while she did it. And Bud had busted that mirror to pieces. Well... the glass of it, anyway.

"I'm not mad at ya, Bud. I'm worried, but I ain't mad."

"God, Mama, 'm s' sorry," he whimpered, a few tears rolling down his face. His eyes burned terribly but he couldn't stop the tears no matter how hard he tried. "'M real sorry."

"What're ya sorry for, baby?" Sally pulled her fingers through his thick locks of honey-brown hair.

"Sorry fer ev'rythin," he sniffled. "Ain't done nothin' but cause trouble m' whole life n I'm s' _sorry _I did."

"You ain't caused no trouble. If anythin', you're my little peacemaker. Ya try t' stop the fights; ya don't start 'em or join 'em, an' ya don't let 'em beat ya up neither. Ya don't like fightin' n ya don't like trouble, so how ya figure ya ain't don't nothin' but cause trouble, Buddy?"

"Caused a lotta trouble when I lost m' hearin'. Caused a lotta troubled when my eyes started actin' up, too. An—an' here lately, I've been real mean t' ev'rybody, Mama."

"I can see why. You was tryin' t' keep it t'gether, baby. Why didn't ya talk ta one of us? Ya know we won't tell no one if ya tell us to."

"Didn't wanna bother no one," he answered, his voice a shaky whisper. "Been dealin' with it on my own since fifth grade... I can handle it."

"Bud, honey, from what I heard about it, you can't anymore. Not on your own, at least. Heck, jus' vent t' one of us ev'ry day if ya want to, we don't care. Don't let it get this bad, baby."

"Y' keep callin' me baby."

"'Cause yer my baby. An' I love you very much, Buddy. Ya really think I don't want you?"

Oh God, she knew about that? He really didn't want to answer her question. He had no idea what her response would be to it and he would like to keep it that way. But given the fact that she had asked him, he didn't really have any other choice but to answer her.

"...Yeah."

"Why not?"

"Y' don't want me, Mama," he shook his head. "I... oh God, Mama, y' don't want me at all. Neither does Poppy."

"We want you, baby. Ya make us awful proud t' be yer parents, too."

"Ain't nothin' t' be proud of," he stated matter-of-factly, his voice no louder than a borderline murmur.

"Oh really?" Sally looked down at him.

"Mhm. Ain't ever done nothin' t' make y'all proud or-or t' make ya glad ya gave me Poppy's name. Y' shoulda gave it t' someone else."

"You're our youngest boy, honey. We can't give it t' one of the girls," she tried to joke.

"They do better than I do at makin' ya proud."

Sally breathed a sigh. She had never really had this conversation with any of her other children, so she didn't know how to go about it.

"You make me very proud. I'm glad God gave ya t' me. I'm glad the good Lord above thought I'd be the right one t' be your Mama."

"I can't do nothin' t' make you proud."

"You do. Ya made me proud of ya when ya was a baby, Bud. Ya started losin' yer hearin' when ya wasn't even a year old, and right after ya had jus' turned one, ya lost it completely. You was completely deaf 'til you were two, almost three, an' ya caught on t' talkin' real quick. We had doctors yellin' ya that ya might not talk right 'til ya was older, but you proved 'em wrong, baby. An' ya still make me proud of ya. It's real hard bein' deaf, I know it is, but ya go through life like nothin's wrong. Ya make me right proud of ya."

"Plenty of people do that, Mama," he argued weakly.

"An' those people ain't my baby boy," she countered, a soft smile appearing on her lips. "I love you, baby. You make me so proud t' be your Mama. I don't regret ya, an' I don't regret givin' ya yer Poppy's name, Bud. I bet yer Poppy agrees with me."

"No," he said firmly. "Poppy ain't proud of me."

Sally glanced up at Ran'l, who exhaled deeply through his nostrils. He went to the other side of the bed, sitting down on the edge and placing a hand on Bud's arm. Bud shifted enough that he could look over his shoulder with ease, his expression morphing to one of horror when he saw Ran'l.

Oh God, he was in trouble, wasn't he? He was going to be in so much trouble that Ran'l wouldn't hesitate to use his belt, and Bud didn't _want _that.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position, his eyes never leaving his father. Sally got up and shuffled over to Tolbert, talking quietly with him. Bud made a distressed noise in the back of his throat when they left the room, leaving him alone with Ran'l.

"Relax, son. I'm not mad at ya."

Bud didn't fully believe that. He'd said a lot when he didn't know Ran'l was there, and he wished he never would have said it. He fought to keep his breathing steady. He wouldn't show how scared he truly was.

"Bud, I'm not mad. I'm not gonna... I'm not gonna hurt ya," Ran'l stumbled over his words. He reached out and cupped Bud's cheek. Bud nearly flinched away from him, but managed to catch himself before he did.

"'M sorry, Poppy," he whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

"Don't 'pologize, son. It's okay," Ran'l assured him, gently rubbing his face.

Bud closed his eyes and subconsciously leaned into his father's touch.

"'M real sorry. I... I know I cause a lot of trouble."

"Ya really don't, youngin'. Yer one of my best kids. Hardly ever have any trouble outta you," Ran'l chuckled a little, watching his youngest son as he opened his eyes again.

"Ya prob'ly don't want me an' ya prob'ly wish ya'd given yer name t' someone else, an—an' that's okay, 'cause you should feel that way. Ain't never done nothin' t' make you proud of me or yer choice t' give me yer name. I know I ain't who ya want me t' be, that y-you want me t' be more like you, an' I try, Poppy, I do. I try so hard t' make you proud of me. I just — _I can't._"

"Buddy, you don't have to try to make me proud of ya. I already am."

Ran'l moved to where he leaned against the headboard.

"C'mere, son."

Bud did as he was told. He leaned against his father's shoulder, anxiously picking at his nails. Ran'l gently scratched Bud's scalp, earning a hum from the boy.

"You mad at me, Poppy?" Bud questioned, looking up at his father.

"No."

"I've been real mean lately," he confessed quietly. "Talked back t' you and Mama, an—an' I bit Rosie's head off. Snapped at y'all and ignored ya... I slammed my door and locked it n you got so mad. I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry 'bout none of that. I'm more worried 'bout you thinkin' I don't want ya."

"Ain't no reason for you t' want me," he shrugged.

"You're our peacemaker," Ran'l started, wrapping his arm around his son. "Jim's a peacemaker too, but he's got a temper on him. If he gets mad or upset, he don't even try with the peacemakin'. He goes straight t' fight. But _you, _Bud, try t' make peace no matter how mad ya are. Yer my level-headed son, an' I know ya had t' get your temperament from yer Mama. Ain't no way you got that from me. I'm as hot-headed as Tolbert is."

Bud huffed in amusement. Ran'l wasn't wrong — he and Tolbert were practically the same when it came to their temperaments.

"You're my youngest boy an' my namesake. Ya got a good heart n a good soul. Yer a good-lookin' boy, too. Don't ya let anyone ever tell ya that me n yer Mama don't want ya or that we regret ya. It ain't so. We love ya very much, and we don't want you. We _need _you. Life wouldn't be right without you, son."

"You just tryin' t' make me feel better?"

"No. I wouldn't ever lie to ya, Buddy. Wanna know somethin' about ya that I admire?"

"Sure."

"Yer determination. Once ya set your mind on somethin', it's practically impossible t' talk you outta it. Like when ya decided ya wanted t' start workin' for the comp'ny an' ya hung out in the office for three weeks and pestered me about it. Ya didn't give up even though I told you no several times every day for three weeks. Ya didn't stop an' ya got the job. Even if I was payin' you in cash 'cause you was technically too young t' be workin' then."

"I like workin' for the comp'ny," he mumbled. "Even if Pharmer got mad as Devil at me the other day. I misheard him so I labeled an order wrong. Threw us off schedule 'cause we had t' redo all the labels n rip off the ones I'd already put on there. I stayed late n fixed it, though. I didn't — I didn't jus' leave it 'cause we was jus' halfway done with takin' the old labels off when quittin' time rolled around."

"Ya shoulda said somethin'. I woulda helped ya."

"It was my fault anyways. I fixed it."

Ran'l looked at his son, whose eyes flicked up and met his.

"Ya make me right proud, Bud. I love ya."

"I love you too, Poppy."

—

Bud had been the same for the last four days. He stayed at Tolbert's place until Monday, constantly apologizing for busting the mirror and anything he did that he thought might have been wrong. When Tolbert dropped him off, he gave his parents a heads-up, just so they knew that Bud had gotten out of the melancholy mood he'd been in and was instead apologizing over everything.

And on Tuesday, Tolbert took him to the doctor. He'd left with results he didn't want, but there wasn't really anything he could do about it.

He'd been diagnosed with depression. Bud wasn't happy about it in the least and was starting to slip back into the melancholy mood he'd been in all weekend. Tolbert wasn't necessarily happy about that, but there wasn't much he could do.

So he led Bud into the pharmacy and dropped off the prescription. He slung an arm over Bud's shoulders after being told it would be about forty-five minutes before it was ready and led him outside again.

"We got time t' kill. What do ya wanna do, Buddy?"

He shook his head and shrugged.

"Alright then. You wanna d'cide what we're havin' for supper? I'll make ya whatever ya want."

Bud didn't want anything if he were to be honest. He just wanted to curl up in bed and stay there.

"Tell me somethin', kid," Tolbert said after they got in the truck.

"I reckon spaghetti's fine," Bud mumbled.

"A'ight. We'll go get the stuff t' make it while we wait. Buckle up, kiddo."

—

Bud had never really liked going to Walmart. It was always crowded and people always had the tendency to stare at him for no good reason, and it made him uncomfortable.

He didn't mind it as much when he was following Tolbert through the aisles, the latter trying to locate the sauce that was needed to make spaghetti.

"Watch out, floor's wet," Tolbert told him. Bud nodded.

Tolbert kept walking, his eyes scanning the shelves. His foot must have hit a slick spot, because the next thing Bud knew, Tolbert was on the ground and he was rolling with laughter.

"Are — are y-ou okay?" he managed to force the words out between spurts of laughter.

"Fine," Tolbert remarked dryly.

That made Bud laugh harder. He drew in a deep breath, only to start laughing again.

"It's not that funny."

"It—it really is," he laughed, moving and extending his hand to Tolbert. "Oh God, that was funny."

"It really wasn't," Tolbert rolled his eyes, grabbing hold of Bud's hand and letting him pull him to his feet. "If that's all it takes to get a smile out of you, next time I'll shove Calvin to the floor or something."

Bud started laughing again.

"There's — there's what ya were lookin' for," he chuckled, pointing to the shelf. He wiped at his eyes, a few giggles escaping.

"Thanks. It wasn't that funny, Bud."

"It really was."

"Whatever."

—

**_February 2017_**

Bud looked up as Ran'l entered the office, raising a brow.

"Yer wearin' yer glasses?"

"Mhm. Don't care t' wear 'em out here. Not t' mention my contacts were startin' t' bother me, so..."

"Ah. Anyways, I got another order for ya."

"Oh God," Bud groaned. "Hang on."

He got up, shuffling around to find the sheet he needed. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, letting out a small noise once he'd found the sheet. He sat down again and grabbed a pen.

He quickly dated it — after double-checking the date on his phone — and looked up expectantly at Ran'l. Ran'l gave him the details and Bud wrote it down in his (surprisingly) neat handwriting, and scrawled his signature on the bottom of it.

"Jim n them know 'bout it?"

"Nope."

"I'll let 'em know. Who worked the office last?"

"That would be Cal."

"Mkay. 'M gonna kill him, just so ya know," Bud said nonchalantly, standing and opening the filing cabinet.

"Why?" Ran'l's brows pinched together.

"He's messed everythin' up. I had it all nice n neat and now it's _not. _I'm gonna kill him. It took me three and a half weeks to get it all organized," Bud ranted, grabbing the file he needed. "So you can tell him if you want to. I don't care. But he's gonna be dead when I get my hands on him."

"Rough day?" Ran'l guessed.

"Real rough day," Bud sighed. "That obvious?"

"Well, you're swearin' you're gonna kill your brother. So yeah, it's that obvious."

The door opened again, Tolbert slipping inside and closing it behind him.

"Hate t' be the bearer of bad news, but somethin's wrong with the saw. Jim's tryin' t' figure out what it is, but we can't do nothin' for a while. Pharmer's stackin' the last bit of lumber we got cut b'fore it broke down, but I don't know what happened."

"I'll go up n look at it. Keep yer brother company."

Ran'l walked out of the office, leaving Tolbert and Bud alone.

"Hi," Bud greeted, scribbling what was needed on a small scrap of paper before slipping the sheet in the file. "Phillips placed an order."

"Frank Phillips?"

"Mhm. That dude Nancy's datin'," Bud confirmed. "I still think he's crazy."

"Well, most people from our part of the country is, Bud. We don't care t' fight people."

"He takes crazy to a whole new level," Bud amended his words, shooting Tolbert a look. "And why are you starin' at me?"

"You're wearin' your glasses. Ya look good."

"Don't get used to it. My contacts were botherin' me and I _really _don't need t' get my eyes infected right now, so I'll wear these. They ain't too bad when I'm home, ya know? It's just family n family don't care what I wear or what I look like. I just don't like wearin' 'em out in public."

"I still don't see why, but it's your choice. So, how ya doin'?"

Tolbert knew that Bud was still trying to adjust to the medicine he'd been given, and that he'd been struggling with his thoughts ever since he started taking them. Bud never breathed a word about it to Ran'l and Sally, though. He didn't want to worry them.

"Still strugglin'," he answered honestly. "Scared myself real good last night."

Tolbert gave him a sympathetic look, watching as his brother stood up and put the file back in the cabinet.

"You'd think I'd be used to it by now."

Tolbert pulled him into a hug, Bud wrapping his arms tightly around his brother.

"It'll lessen soon. I was readin' on it the other night. They said it won't completely eliminate them, but it'll help you with them. They also said it takes about two or three months to get used to 'em, and it's been about three months. It should be gettin' better for ya."

"I hope so."

Tolbert glanced at Bud, noticing how his hearing aid wasn't laying the way it usually was.

"What's wrong with your hearin' aid?"

"Hm? Oh, it screeched real bad earlier. At lunchtime, actually, and — and William was the one that caused it. He turned it up and it screeched so I pulled it out."

"My offer still stands."

"_No. _I am not lettin' you talk t' anyone about it. It won't do no good, Tolbert, I know it won't," Bud stated firmly.

"Alright, whatever," Tolbert shrugged. "I offered."

"And I respectfully declined. I appreciate the offer, but it won't do no good, Tol."

Tolbert shrugged, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Bud sat down in his chair and scooted up, clicking his pen.

"You comin' t' my place t'day?"

"I can if you want me to."

"Yeah, come over. We'll play board n card games and we'll tell ghost stories. You make some good creepy ones."

"I try my best," Bud shrugged innocently. "They're not as good as yours, though."

"I dunno. Betcha Pharmer n Cal would disagree with ya if they ever heard your stories. Sometimes you creep me out with 'em, an' I'm not an easy person t' spook."

"I have many talents, Tol," Bud grinned sinisterly. "One of them happens to be creepin' you out."

"Quit grinnin' like that!"

—

"Your move, Tolbert," Bud drawled, leaning back against the couch. He watched Tolbert make his move and quirked a brow.

He was silent while he made his move, snatching Tolbert's piece off of the board.

"I win."

"You cheated."

"I did not cheat. You made your move, and it was a dumb one."

"_Excuse me?_" Tolbert blinked.

"You heard me. Ya made a dumb move. Why didn't you move the other way? Then I wouldn't've been able t' make that move."

"Sometimes I don't like you," Tolbert grumbled.

"Oh, you love me and you know it," Bud laughed. "What time is it?"

"Uh... around eleven, why?"

"I'm really tired. I'm goin' t' bed."

"Alright. Love ya, kid."

"Love you too, old man."

"_HEY!_"

—

Tolbert woke up to the sound of someone running down the hallway. He scooted back, and was less than surprised when Bud came running into his room. He climbed onto the bed and got as close as he could to Tolbert, breathing heavily with tears rolling down his face.

"I can't — I can't breathe."

"Yeah, ya can, Buddy. Here, gimme yer hand." Tolbert took his hand and laid it against his chest. "Do what I do, okay?"

Bud nodded. Tolbert took an exaggerated breath and held it until Bud took a breath. He exhaled and waited for Bud to do the same before taking another breath. The routine continued for a few moments, and when Bud could breathe again, he buried his face in the crook of Tolbert's neck.

"'M sorry," he mumbled. "I don't... I don't have those very often an' they usually ain't that bad."

"It's okay. I don't care if ya come runnin' in here."

"I know," Bud whispered. "I tried t' calm down on my own, but I just couldn't. Stupid nightmare threw me into it."

"Wanna talk 'bout it?"

"Not really."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "yeah, I'm fine."

Tolbert gently scratched the boy's scalp. Bud sighed in contentment. He didn't run to Tolbert very often anymore. He was trying to get out of the habit of running to him when he woke up from a nightmare at his house, but it wasn't working out very well. The last few times he had, he'd ended up having a panic attack and had run straight to Tolbert because he couldn't calm himself down.

"Sorry for botherin' you."

"Ya ain't botherin' me. Ya could never bother me, Buddy."

"Mm... I dunno. I seem t' bother people after a while."

"Don't focus on that right now. Focus on sleeping. You have school tomorrow."

"'Kay. Love you," he murmured.

"Love you too."

—

Bud always dreaded report cards. And when he got his back and read it... well, he freaked out a little. He had an F in every class and he didn't know why. He'd done his work, had checked it multiple times to ensure it was correct, and he was still failing.

"Wha—hey!" he exclaimed as the slip of paper was jerked out of his hands. "Give it back!"

"_Relax, _McCoy. I just want t' see it."

"Give it back! It's not yours, give it!"

William held his arm out, keeping Bud away from him while he read his report card.

"_Oooh... _gee, Bud, that's pretty bad," he chortled.

"Just give it back!" Bud demanded. He was getting sick and tired of William always doing this to him.

"What's your... your pappy — is that right? — gonna say when he sees this? _All F's? _God, Randolph, why can't ya be like yer brothers?"

"Don't bring Poppy int' it—"

"Poppy! That's it. Ya literally call yer father the name of a flower," William deadpanned, his friends laughing.

"It's what I've always called him. Give it back, William!"

"Oh my God, what would Tolbert think about this? Would he still think you're an intelligent person, Randolph?"

Bud bit the inside of his cheek, trying to refrain from saying anything that would earn him a beating. He hung his head and stretched his hand out.

"Give it back, please," he pleaded, his voice trembling.

The paper was placed in his hand and Bud spun on his heel, hurrying away from them. He could hear their laughter as he hurried out of the school, spotting Tolbert's truck in the parking lot.

Bud gulped and made his way over to it. What if they were right? What if Tolbert thought he was stupid and didn't want to spend time with him anymore? Tolbert's biggest pet peeve was stupidity. He couldn't stand it when people acted stupidly around him, and if Bud was stupid, well... Tolbert wouldn't want to be near him, would he?

Bud was silent as he got in the truck.

"Hey, Bud," Tolbert greeted with a smile.

"Hey," he muttered half-heartedly, buckling his seatbelt.

"What's the matter with you?" Tolbert queried almost instantly.

Bud handed the paper to Tolbert, turning his head away from him. He didn't want to see the disappointment on Tolbert's face. Bud fought back a whimper and forced his tears back. He would _not _cry.

"Bud—"

"I know," he interrupted, cutting him off.

"Bud, how—"

"_I don't know!_" he exploded. "I don't know, a'ight? Just — just take me home so I can get it over with."

Tolbert sighed, giving the paper back to him and shifting into reverse. He didn't say anything; Bud clearly didn't want him to. So he would take him home and he would stay silent while he did.

—

Bud wasn't looking forward to confronting Ran'l. Tolbert had dropped him off about five minutes ago, and Bud was trying to postpone what would surely be a reaction to remember as long as he could.

He was in his room, and was trying to decide if he wanted to get it over with or not. He always tried to make it quick and to the point. The sooner his father found out, the sooner Bud could take a good scolding. But Bud had tried so hard this semester, and he'd still failed.

So he picked up the paper on his desk and made his way downstairs. He cut through the kitchen and went out the back door, taking a deep breath as he made his way to the office.

Ran'l was going to kill him. Bud was certain of that much. His father wasn't going to be lenient about his grades. He never had been and he certainly wouldn't start just because Bud had depression. Depression meant nothing when it came to his schoolwork.

"Hey, Poppy," Bud forced the words out as he entered the office.

"Hey, Buddy. What're ya doin' in here? It's your day off."

"I know, I just..." Bud trailed off. He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing and his stomach was twisting itself into knots. He wasn't ready for whatever reaction Ran'l was going to have.

"You just what?" Ran'l looked up at him.

"Please don't get mad," he whispered pleadingly.

"Why would I get mad?" His father blinked, not understanding why his son was acting so weird.

Bud hesitantly approached the desk and slid the paper onto it, sitting down in one of the chairs. He averted his gaze to the floor. He shouldn't have been scared. He knew Ran'l's policy, and Bud could never meet it when it came to his grades.

"Oh my God," Ran'l breathed. "Are ya serious?"

Bud hummed and nodded. He heard his father sigh heavily and he looked up at him, fear shining in his hazel eyes.

"Bud, I thought you told me it would be better this time."

"I thought it would be! I tried, I tried so hard, Poppy! I thought it would be better," Bud rambled nervously. "Pl-please don't get mad."

"Oh my God, Bud," Ran'l groaned exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't even know what I can do. Nothin' seems t' work with you. I can't ground you, 'cause that would mean ya don't have yer phone with ya at school and I don't like that. What can I possibly—"

Ran'l was cut off by his phone ringing. He answered it and spoke to whoever called him, leaving Bud feeling awkward. He hated that he'd disappointed Ran'l again, but Bud couldn't help it. He'd tried his best and even that wasn't good enough, apparently.

He caught his father glancing at him.

"Yeah, I know someone who'll go with ya. Uh-huh. You pick him up at eight. A'ight, see ya then."

Ran'l hung up and gave Bud a look.

"I think I figured it out."

Bud gulped. He didn't like the tone of Ran'l's voice.

"_You _are going to the gala your sister and cousin is attending tonight. Alifair will be here at eight t' pick you up."

"I — what?! Poppy, I ain't got nothin' t' wear to a gala!" Bud's voice rose to a high pitched squeak.

"Yes, you do. Wear one of your button-ups and your nice jacket. Just make sure it matches or Ali'll kill ya."

"Poppy, I'll work triple shifts, unpaid, if ya let me outta this—"

"_No, _Bud. Yer sister needs someone t' go with her an' you're that person."

Bud slumped in his seat, fighting back tears. He didn't want to go out in front of people. He didn't want to get stuck at some stupid gala that Alifair and Nancy decided to attend. If Nancy was there, that meant Frank was there, and Bud didn't like him.

It was nothing against the man; Bud just didn't like him. He struck Bud the wrong way and very few people did. Bud thought the man was a barbarian with his ways of thinking when it came to justice and he didn't want to be near him.

"Go get ready. Your sister will be here at eight."

—

"I don't wanna go, Tolbert," Bud sobbed into the phone.

"Then don't," Tolbert replied nonchalantly.

"I don't have a choice! Poppy's makin' me go t' that stupid gala."

"'Cause of yer grades?"

"Yeah," Bud sniffled. "I don't want t' go. I tried — I tried makin' a deal that I'd work triple shifts without pay and he still said no."

"Bud, your body can't handle a triple shift at the mill."

"I'd force it!" Bud retaliated. "I don't want t' go t' no stupid gala!"

"Bud, calm down. It's alright. Who are ya goin' with?" Tolbert asked.

"Ali."

"It won't be that bad if yer goin' with Ali—"

"Nancy's gonna be there too. And you know she's gonna bring Frank with her. I can't stand t' be around him, Tolbert."

"It's just for an hour, maybe two. Just talk to Alifair."

"You are literally no help," Bud remarked, slamming his hand against his desk.

"I can't do anything if it's a punishment, Bud. Though I don't see how sendin' you to a gala is a punishment."

"'Cause I hate interacting with people. It stresses me out."

"I know. Just talk t' Ali, okay?"

"Okay. Bye, Tol."

—

Alifair didn't know which of her brothers was being forced to attend the gala with her, but she was hoping and praying it wasn't Calvin. Calvin had the tendency to get mad and make it miserable, and she would rather have a good time.

So when Bud came out of the house dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt, a pair of slacks, his dress shoes, and his nicest black jacket, Alifair breathed a sigh of relief. He'd even slicked his hair back, and he had his glasses on. Alifair knew he wouldn't wear them if he didn't have to, so it didn't take much to figure out he'd run out of contacts again.

The closer he got to her Chevy Impala, the more she realized how upset he was. He didn't look happy at all, and if Alifair knew Bud as well as she thought she did, she didn't care to say that he had no choice in the matter.

He finally reached the car and got in and closed the door, not saying a word.

"You bein' forced t' go?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," he responded quietly. "How long is this gonna take?"

"An hour, maybe two," Alifair guessed.

Bud sighed heavily.

"Ya look real handsome, though," she complimented.

"Don't. Even. Start." He glanced over at her, seeing she was in a black evening down that was one-shouldered and appeared to go down to the floor. "Ya look nice, Ali."

"Thank ya, Buddy. You won't ever see me in this dress again."

Bud snorted at that. Alifair wasn't one that wore evening gowns. She didn't mind wearing casual dresses, or the high-low dresses, but she hated evening gowns with a passion.

"Why's Poppy makin' ya go?" she asked as they pulled out onto the highway.

"Report cards came out t'day. Straight F's and he ain't happy. He said he's tried ev'rythin' with me n nothin's worked," Bud admitted. "Made me feel real good, ya know? Knowin' he's tried every punishment he could think of with me an' I'm still failin'... I don't know what's wrong with me, Ali."

"Straight F's?! No way! I know you shouldn't have an F in science and health. I helped you with those."

"I know. Tolbert helped me with everything else and — and it's _still_ straight F's, Ali," he said tearfully. "I can't — _ugh, _I don't know if it's just me or what. My science teacher hates me n loves to humiliate me, so does my health teacher. I swear, Ali, I'm droppin' out once I turn sixteen."

"Bud—"

"I'm not gonna graduate anyway. I'm gonna have to repeat tenth grade if I stay in school. I'm not repeating tenth grade, Ali, there's _no way. _I'd rather be a high school dropout than have t' do all this again."

"There is _no dagon way _you made straight F's. I'm in medical school, I should know. I know my health stuff and I know my science, and I ain't dumb enough to believe that ya literally made straight F's."

"Ali—"

"Bud, there's no possible way you failed this time," she lowered her voice, glancing at him. "I saw your work; it was _right. _There's no way you failed."

"Apparently, I did," Bud scratched the back of his neck. "My report card says that I did."

"We'll figure that out later. For now, we're gonna show Poppy this was a terrible idea for a punishment, 'cause we're gonna have a good time."

"Is Frank gonna be there?"

"Yeah."

"I ain't gonna have a good time."

"Bud," Alifair chastised, trying to suppress a laugh. She shouldn't have found his dislike for their cousin's boyfriend funny, but she did. It was hilarious to watch what all he would do to avoid him. "Be nice, please."

"I make no promises."

—

"You brought Bud as your date?" Nancy asked as Alifair and Bud approached the table.

"Sure, you can say that," Alifair snorted while Bud pulled her chair out for her. Bud sat down beside her, shooting her a look. She grasped his hand under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It wasn't really by choice."

"Putting it lightly," Bud mumbled under his breath.

"And you, Bud," Nancy directed her attention to him. "You're wearing your glasses?"

"Mhm," he hummed and nodded. "Also not by choice."

Alifair chuckled and shook her head, a loose curl falling in front of her face while he laughed at her younger brother. She watched his face drop and watched him resist the urge to roll his eyes when Frank sat down beside Nancy. Alifair cleared her throat and shifted slightly. She couldn't laugh at him and let them discover he didn't really like Frank.

"Hello, Bud," the man greeted.

"Hey," Bud forced a smile. He shot Alifair a look when she let out a breathless laugh under her breath.

"You still wearin' them hearin' aids? I thought you'd've gotten the implant thing by now," Frank remarked lightheartedly.

"Cochlear implant?" Alifair supplied.

"Yes, that."

"Nah. I like my hearin' aids. Don't want no cochlear implant," Bud stated, wishing he could just disappear. He hated conversing with Frank. It usually led to something political or the topic of justice, and Bud never agreed with anything he said.

"Most people want t' get rid of hearin' aids," Frank laughed a little.

"Not me. I don't like the idea of having something implanted in my ears."

Alifair couldn't help but snort with laughter. Her little brother was firm in his beliefs and he wouldn't back down — even when it was over something as insignificant as a cochlear implant, which she had talked to him about. She'd explained it to him not too long ago and he'd immediately shot the idea down. He preferred his hearing aids.

"I always said he likes bein' able t' turn 'em down when someone's gettin' on his nerves," Nancy chuckled.

"Oh, he does. Especially when he gets in a argument with Tolbert," Alifair spoke up, sending the boy an amused look.

"I turn it down a little 'cause he starts yellin'," Bud corrected. "I do the same when Poppy starts yellin'."

"Why?" Nancy questioned, propping her chin upon her hand.

"It jus' gets t' be too loud," he answered honestly, shrugging lightly.

"Alright, enough of that. We came here t' have a good time; not talk about Bud's choice ta keep his hearin' aids."

—

"Hey," Alifair nudged Bud's shoulder, catching him off guard. He looked up at her, as she had gotten up to go to the bathroom a few moments ago. "Ya wanna dance?"

"I don't dance," he denied instantly. "I will do a lot of things for you, but I will not do that."

"Just one? It's a waltz. Ya can't mess that up, Bud."

"Alifair—"

"Please? I'll try t' talk t' Poppy after this if ya do. Tell 'im I don't think yer report card's right."

Bud bit on his bottom lip, a troubled expression on his face. If Alifair could talk to Ran'l about it... maybe it wouldn't be nearly as bad when he got home.

"A'ight. _One _dance."

"This is why you're my favorite."

Bud let Alifair lead him to the dance floor and immediately looked uncomfortable. Alifair placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. Bud leaned down next to her ear.

"I hope ya know I really don't like you at the moment."

"I kinda figured. But I thank ya, even if ya are doin' it with selfish intentions."

"Yeah, well... I need someone t' save my hide when I get home n Tolbert can't, so yer kinda my only hope at this point," he pointed out while they danced. "God, this reminds me of when we used t' dance at home."

"Only now you're a giant and we're at some fancy gala that I managed to get an invite to."

"I'm not a giant," Bud rolled his eyes while he straightened his posture. "I'm not even as tall as Tolbert."

"You're like an inch shorter than he is," Alifair countered. "You're both giants."

"We ain't giants," he chortled. "You're just short."

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are. Yer hair's fallin' down, by the way."

"I don't care," Alifair shrugged. "I managed t' get you t' dance with me. I consider that an accomplishment."

"As you should. Because I am not doing this again, Alifair."

Alifair smiled at him. Bud rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly, earning a giggle from his sister.

"Oh, quit actin' like you don't enjoy it."

"I'm not actin'."

—

They left about an hour and a half after they arrived, and Bud couldn't have been more thankful.

He and Alifair raced to the car, given the fact it was pouring the rain, and laughed when they got in it.

"Oh God, Bud," Alifair laughed. "You look like a drowned rat."

"Well gee, thanks," he huffed. "Ya wouldn't happen t' have a handkerchief or somethin' would ya? My vision is spotted at the moment."

"Yeah. In my purse," Alifair said while handing him her purse. "Just open it n get it."

"Thanks," he mumbled, taking the handkerchief out before removing his glasses. He cleaned the lenses and put them back on. "That's better."

"Did ya have fun?"

"I did," he admitted. "Didn't like the dancin', but I enjoyed talkin' t' you."

"Oh, yer so sweet."

"Don't start with that again," he shook his head while she pulled out of the parking lot. "Oh God, Ali, there's water ev'rywhere."

"I know it. Maybe you should jus' stay at my place t'night... That way we don't risk runnin' int' floodwaters an' gettin' stuck if we do."

"Ali—"

"Please? I'll stop somewheres and we can getcha some clothes t' change into once we get t' my place. I just... that road's already flooded by now or blocked by a mudslide. You know that as well as I do."

"A'ight," Bud agreed. "Just stop at Walmart and I'll run in an' grab a t-shirt n a pair of sweatpants."

"A'ight. Thank you."

—

Once they got to Alifair's single-story home, Bud went to the bathroom and changed. He'd bought a green t-shirt and a pair of grey shorts, as they'd been the first things he found in his size. He just needed them to sleep in, so it didn't matter if it matched or not.

He shuffled out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, where Alifair was. She was dressed in a tank top and a pair of shorts, and was whistling. Her hair — which had been done in a fancy style — was pulled up in a messy bun, a few stray curls framing her face. She'd taken her makeup off as well, and looked up at Bud when he shuffled in the kitchen.

"Hey," she smiled. "Ya want somethin' t' eat?"

"Nah," he shook his head.

"I'm gonna call Poppy... tell him yer stayin' here. I did look, and _yes, _there's a mudslide not even half a mile away from the house. High water, too. It must've poured while we were in there."

"Yeah really," Bud muttered, leaning against the counter. "Ya best r'member your part of the deal, too. I ain't dancin' for no reason."

"You enjoyed it," she chuckled. "Admit it."

"Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"'Cause it would be a lie! I don't dance, Ali. It's not somethin' I like t' do. Don't mind watchin' other people do it, but I don't."

A knock sounded at the door.

"I'll get it," Bud spoke up quickly. "You do whatever it was you were gonna do."

Bud jogged to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open.

"_Tolbert?!_"

"Hey," he breathed.

Bud moved out of his way, letting him step inside. Bud closed the door and locked it again.

"What in the world—"

"I can't get home," Tolbert cut him off. "I tried. There's just — there's no way t' get home right now."

"What were you doin' out anyway?"

"Went t' pick up yer prescription an' your contacts. They're out in the truck, I'll get 'em in the mornin'. I wasn't even gone an hour."

Bud laughed, shaking his head.

"Ali's on the phone right now, but given the circumstances, I do believe we're stuck sharin' a room again."

"Aren't we always when somethin' like this happens?" Tolbert pulled a face.

"Yeah. Usually, we're at Roseanna's, though."

"Who are you — oh, it's Tolbert. Yeah, Poppy, we're all fine. Bud had a good time n he even danced with me."

Bud's face flushed red.

"You danced?" Tolbert quirked a brow.

"She bribed me into it," he grumbled.

"Oh, this I have got to know about."

"In here," Bud mumbled as he entered the living room. He sat down on the couch, watching Tolbert as he sat down beside him. "You know why I had to go."

"Yes," Tolbert nodded.

"Ali swears that I shouldn't've made straight F's. I don't think so either, but I didn't say nothin' 'cause no one ever listens t' me anyways. Sorry, back on track, Ali said that if I danced with her once, she would tell Poppy what she thought and try t' make this situation better for me. There's no way I coulda failed health and science, Tol. Ali helped me with it," Bud elaborated, looking at his brother.

"Even _I _know you shouldn't-a made the grades you did. You had me n Ali helpin' you with yer homework, and we both helped you study for tests. Did you ever get those back?"

"No. I don't even know if they've been graded. I'm too scared t' look at my grades online."

"So... what're you plannin' t' do?"

"Put up with it 'til I'm sixteen."

"Why sixteen?"

"They're not gonna let me pass tenth grade with these kinda grades, Tol. I'm not repeating it again. I'd rather be a high school dropout than t' repeat tenth grade."

"No. Absolutely not. Tell ya what... we're gonna take a look at yer grades online, see what's goin' on. Then I'm gonna talk t' Mama n see if she'll let me homeschool you. You learn a lot more out of school than ya do in school anyways. Ya just won't have t' get up before the sun anymore."

"Really?" Bud asked, hope shining in his eyes.

"Yeah. Let me go see if Ali'll let me use her laptop, then we'll plan all this out."

Tolbert left the room, leaving Bud alone for a few moments. He returned with Alifair on his heels, the two of them talking about something that Bud didn't catch. All he caught was: "That's a great idea!"

"A'ight, kid, let's work this out," Tolbert smiled at him.

Bud scooted over as far as he could, allowing Tolbert to sit next to him and Alifair next to Tolbert. They went on the site, allowing Bud to sign in before watching the boy pale.

"There is no way this is right," Alifair muttered, looking over the percentages. They didn't go over 30 percent and it made Bud sick to his stomach. He knew that was wrong, he knew it was, but he couldn't figure out why his grades were so bad.

"Let's see... we'll start with science."

—

After reviewing each class — as the site was set up to where they could view the assignments and the grade he had received on it — Tolbert and Alifair came to the conclusion that homeschooling was the best option for their younger brother.

Alifair knew for a fact that the science and health assignments were done correctly, as she had helped him with them. Sometimes she explained something to him, then there were days he just asked her to read over his answers. They had been correct and she had told him so. He always left a little happier than he'd been when he arrived.

Tolbert knew that the other assignments were done correctly. He'd been the one explaining every method of how to solve algebraic equations to Bud, had watched the boy figure it out on his own. He'd taught his brother how to graph things properly and had read over several essays that the boy had written for English. Each one was worthy of an A, a B at the very least. Tolbert knew how to write a good essay and Bud's essays were always worded and written beautifully.

Bud should have been doing well academically. He was an intelligent boy that shouldn't have been failing. That was what confused them — why was he failing? They both knew that he'd turned in papers that had every answer (except maybe one or two on the math sheets — some were tough to figure out) correct. By right, Bud should have been a straight A student.

"I don't understand it," Tolbert mumbled.

"Neither do I. None of these are right."

"I know. I just... oh my God," he groaned exasperatedly. "I don't understand how he has all F's! He shouldn't have _one single F!_"

"We'll talk t' Mama in the mornin' about homeschoolin' him. I can take on science and health, teach him all that fun interesting stuff. You can teach him the boring stuff."

"Maybe he's interested in history and English. Don't blame him at all for hatin' math. It's a pain."

"Ain't that the truth."

"Well... now that we know _why _his grades are so low, let's go t' bed. You two can have the guest room. I love you both dearly, but I am _exhausted _and just want to sleep."

"I relate," Bud mumbled under his breath.

"A'ight. Love ya, Ali," Tolbert gave a small smile.

"Love you."

—

Bud shuffled into the kitchen with his glasses on, his hair going in every direction. Alifair suppressed a laugh when she saw his severe case of bed head, but she found it to be utterly adorable.

"Mornin', honey. You want some coffee?"

"Mmm..."

Alifair poured him a cup of coffee and set it in front of him, watching him lift the mug to his lips and sip it.

"Did you call me honey?" Bud asked, his voice a little deeper than usual.

"I did," Alifair nodded. "It took you three minutes to notice it, too."

Bud grunted and sat down at the table, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Tolbert went t' see if the roads are clear yet. He'll be back either way, but you have the choice of ridin' with me if they are clear. We're gonna try t' talk Mama int' lettin' us homeschool you. I think you'd do better that way."

"I just... I don't understand," Bud confessed. "I know I shouldn't've made those grades, Ali. There's no way I shoulda failed every class, _especially _not English and science and health. Math, too. You and Tolbert helped me too much with it. I had you read over every sheet of paper I turned in. There's — there's no possible way I failed."

"I know there's no way that you—"

"Roads are clear," Tolbert announced as he walked into the kitchen. "Here, Bud. Yer medicine and your contacts."

"Thanks," Bud mumbled, ripping open the paper bag from the pharmacy. "I think I'll just wear the glasses, though."

That earned a look of shock from both his brother and his sister.

"What? I just don't wanna mess with contacts right now."

"A'ight, whatever. Who are you gonna ride home with?"

"Ali," he responded while opening the bottle. He dumped a single pill into his hand and took it, washing it down with coffee. "I hate these things."

"But yer in much better moods when you take 'em," Alifair pointed out. "You need 'em."

"I don't deny that. I just don't like 'em. Like I don't like hearin' aids and glasses."

"That's fair," Alifair nodded slightly. "Let me go change n then we'll go. Bud... comb your hair."

—

**_March 2017_**

Alifair and Tolbert had managed to persuade Ran'l and Sally to allow them to homeschool Bud. And once they had, they wasted no time in getting the boy started to prove that something had gone wrong with his grades.

The first week of March, they decided to get together and compare his grades so far, and he passed with flying colors. Ran'l and Sally had been impressed by his improvement, and had started to think that maybe — just maybe — their children were right.

So at Sunday meeting that week, Bud hung out in the parking lot afterward, whistling and kicking at a pebble while he walked around. He didn't pay any attention to the women who were affectionately referred to as the gossiping busybodies between his family, and he didn't pay any attention to the other teenagers either.

Maybe that was his mistake.

Bud hit the ground with a grunt, hissing when his palms scraped against the cement.

"Ain't seen you in school all week, McCoy. Where've ya been?" William sneered, kicking Bud.

"I'm homeschooled now," Bud answered curtly, standing up and brushing himself off. "Hey, stop! Give 'em back, I need those!"

William had snatched Bud's glasses off of his face, and tilted his head to the side.

"You look a lot better without 'em, and that's really sayin' somethin'," he laughed, snapping the frames in two.

Bud's heart plummeted to his stomach. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him while he stared at the broken frames that were dropped to the ground, watching in horror as William stepped on them, breaking the lenses.

_Oh God, _what was he going to tell Ran'l?

"Why'd ya do that?" he asked quietly, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"'Cause I can. Ya ain't gonna tell no one. That would make you a whiny little baby," William taunted.

"Hey, Bud! Where's yer glasses?" Tolbert's brows furrowed as he approached his younger brother.

Bud's breathing hitched and he stared down at the ground, swallowing thickly. Tolbert's eyes followed Bud's gaze, landing on a crushed pair of frames.

"I know you didn't break his glasses." Tolbert's voice was dangerously low.

"So what if I did? That freak you call a brother is a nobody, Tolbert! A deaf little nobody that thinks the whole world owes him somethin'," William spat.

"Tolbert, _no!_" Bud shouted, grabbing hold of Tolbert's arms and holding him back.

He could make out a blurry figure running toward them, but he didn't know who it was. Once they were close enough, he realized it was Ran'l, and he breathed a breath of relief.

"What's goin' on?" Ran'l demanded.

"He started it," William lied, pointing at Bud.

"Liar!" Bud exclaimed. And after thinking for a moment, Bud told the truth. "He broke my glasses an' provoked Tolbert. He said... he said I'm a deaf little nobody that thinks the world owes him somethin'."

"My son is not a deaf little nobody. He might be deaf, but he's somebody. He's a good kid, William. I thought you would know that since ya went t' school with him n all." Ran'l looked at the crushed glasses. "There wa'n't no reason t' break Bud's glasses. I'm sure you feel real good now."

Bud and Tolbert were led away from the scene, only to discover almost everyone had turned their attention toward them.

"Poppy—"

"Not now, son. Let's focus on gettin' home."

—

Bud sat on the porch with Tolbert, putting his contacts in.

"My glasses," he mumbled sadly.

He'd grown to like them a little more over the last month. He wasn't made fun of when he wore them and he found that he did like wearing them every now and then. But now they were broken and he had no way to replace them.

"We'll getcha a new pair," Tolbert assured him.

"Everything I start to like... it gets taken away. My glasses, I started enjoyin' school a little 'cause I was finally catching on with stuff 'cause you n Ali were helpin' and — and then I failed every class. I liked the new girl, Evelyn, and William told her that I was a terr'ble human bein' and that I ain't nothin' but a freak. I just don't understand why nothin' works out for me."

"You still have contact lenses. Me n Ali are homeschoolin' you and you are thriving, Bud. You're ahead of your grade level. You ain't no terr'ble human bein', and you ain't no freak. It's little things, Bud. Like yer hearin' aids, or-or you bein' forced t' go t' the gala. That ended up bein' a good thing, right?"

"Reckon so."

"That weekend you were at my place and you had that breakdown. That helped us understand that you needed a little more help, that you weren't just going through a phase where you wanted t' shut everybody out for a while. It showed us that you'd gotten real good at hidin' things from us, and we've all learned a bit from it. You come t' us and vent now and we listen. We want to help you as much as we possibly can, Buddy. It's hard for you, I know it is. You're a fifteen-year-old boy that wants ta be normal, but Buddy... normal's overrated. I think yer perfect just the way you are."

"I'm far from perfect," he scoffed.

"In your opinion you are. But... but ya don't see how much you've grown since we first found out you was losin' yer hearin'. You amaze us, Buddy. You amazed us then and ya still do a good job of amazin' us. Yer smart. They told us you wasn't gonna be able t' talk right for a few years, that you'd always be behind b'cause of the nearly two years you were completely deaf. But ya proved 'em wrong. And by the time you started school, when your eyes started botherin' you, ya was talkin' better than most six-year-olds. You're perfect to us, Bud. We don't want you no other way."

"Dang," Bud let out a breathless chuckle. "I don't feel that way at all. But thanks."

"You're welcome. I love you, Bud."

"I love you too."

A comfortable silence was present for a moment, the brothers looking out across the yard.

"Tolbert, I think you're the best big brother," Bud said suddenly.

"Why?" Tolbert asked, looking over at him with his face pinched in a bewildered expression.

"You've always took up for me. Ya didn't care who it was or how old they were, ya told 'em exactly what ya thought when they said somethin' that counted as makin' fun of me. Heck, ya even hit Jefferson that once for sayin' somethin' about it. Ya didn't judge me when I had that breakdown in your house, ya just — you were there and ya tried yer best t' help me. You've never told me that my grades were somethin' I could easily fix... ya just encouraged me t' work harder t' bring them up and I did. You may have a terrible temper, but you're the best person I know. I love you, Tolbert."

"I love you too, Buddy," Tolbert smiled, pulling his little brother into a hug. "Wanna know a secret?"

"Sure."

"You're my fav'rite."

"You wanna know a secret?" Bud laughed a little.

"Why not?" Tolbert shrugged.

"You're my fav'rite. I don't think I woulda survived that breakdown without you, Tol."

"Yeah, you would've. Ya have Ali n Rosie, an' they understand, they do. But none of our siblin's is ever gonna love you as much as I do. I'm always gonna love you more than they do, kid. It seems I have grown attached ta you in the fifteen years you've been livin'."

Bud laughed a little at that.

"And... let me be honest here. I may get mad at ya. I may scream an' say somethin' stupid, but I'll always love you. Don't ever think that I don't jus' 'cause I say somethin' when we get in an argument."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nodded in confirmation.

"I'll always love you, too. Even if I say I hate ya or somethin' stupid like that."

Tolbert chuckled and ruffled the boy's hair.

"You're a good kid, Bud. Don't ever change."


	11. Living Nightmare (Modern AU)

**_November 2017_**

Bud trembled and dropped the pistol, staring at Tolbert. _Oh God, he'd shot him._

"Oh my God, oh my God! I'm so sorry, I didn't — oh God, I thought y' was the guy that broke in! Oh my God, hang on," Bud rambled nervously, catching Tolbert as he stumbled forward and lowering them to the floor.

Bud ran to the bathroom and grabbed a towel, running back and falling to his knees beside Tolbert, applying pressure to the wound. Tolbert cried out and hissed, moving ever so slightly to try to ease the pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

"Hey, hey, it's — it's okay," Tolbert choked out. He should've yelled so Bud knew he was there. Instead, he'd scared the poor boy out of his wits and now they were both in an interesting predicament.

"Oh God, there's so much blood," Bud whimpered.

"Bud—"

"I'll — I'll be right back, I swear."

Bud got up and scurried into his room. Tolbert could hear him talking and he immediately knew that Bud had called 911. Fear seized Tolbert's heart. If the police got involved, they would arrest Bud without a second thought. No break-in had been reported and therefore they wouldn't know about it.

Tolbert closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. He was certain he'd never had pain that extended to what would be described as excruciating until now. He let out a shaky breath and opened his eyes again. He only hoped Bud wouldn't cause himself too much trouble.

—

Three weeks later, Bud sat in his cell, staring down at the floor. He hadn't eaten since he'd arrived, and he'd only slept for about three hours (one hour each week). He was too afraid to sleep and he refused to eat whatever it was they served to him. It didn't look appetizing and it made Bud sick to his stomach.

They had charged him with attempted murder. Bud had nearly fainted when he heard the charge. He'd already had his arraignment — bond was set at $200,000 with the added condition that he lived with Tolbert as his sole caretaker. Bud knew that it was a ploy to dissuade the McCoys from bailing him out; why else would the judge add such an idiotic condition?

"McCoy, you got a visitor."

He stood up and let the bailiff handcuff him, and was jerked roughly out of his cell. Bud was used to it now. They hadn't treated him kindly at all and he had the sinking feeling that it was because they all thought he'd done it with the intention to kill Tolbert. Except that wasn't the case at all, even if nobody knew that.

Coming to a room filled with tables, the bailiff released him from his cuffs and instructed him to knock on the door when he was finished. Bud nodded, his eyes landing on the only occupied table in the room.

He crossed and sat down, keeping his hands in his lap and his eyes focused on the plastic tabletop.

"Hey, Buddy."

Bud squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed thickly. He didn't want to think about it, he didn't want to think about it. But now that Tolbert was here, dressed in a denim button-up that exposed the top part of the white bandage on Tolbert's chest, Bud felt absolutely horrible.

"You gonna talk t' me?" Tolbert asked, trying to bend down enough to see Bud's eyes. Bud shook his head. "Alright, that's fine, Buddy. Ya don't have t' talk if ya don't want to. I brought ya yer glasses. Figured ya might need 'em."

"What're you doin' here?" Bud asked plainly, lifting the glasses off of the table and putting them on.

"I came t' see ya. What else would I be doin' here?"

Bud shrugged, despite having a few ideas. Tolbert could have been there just to tell him that he hates him and never wants anything to do with him again. Tolbert could have been there just to tell him that he wouldn't ever be free. Tolbert could have been there just so he could express his hatred toward Bud.

And Bud wouldn't've tried to stop him. It was what he deserved. He deserved to be locked up; he'd _shot Tolbert. _He'd pulled the trigger without a second thought, thinking that the man was closer to the staircase and if he shot at the wall, it would scare him. But instead, he'd shot his older brother in the chest and he had — thankfully — lived.

He deserved to have Tolbert and everyone else hate him.

"Hey, it wasn't your fault," Tolbert spoke up, pulling the boy out of his thoughts. "It was just a freak accident. That's all it was."

Bud clenched his jaw and stayed silent.

"If... if ev'rythin' goes the way I'm hopin' it will, I'll have you outta here by the end of the week," Tolbert told him, grasping his hand.

"How, Tolbert?" Bud wrenched his hand out of Tolbert's grasp, trying to ignore the hurt look that crossed Tolbert's face for a few seconds. "We ain't got that kinda money. I'm a teenager, but I ain't stupid. I ain't stupid enough ta believe that you'd actually let me live with ya after wh—"

"I'm not gonna let ya stay here, Bud. You're gonna live with me whether ya like it or not."

"You don't want me livin' with ya," Bud shook his head. "Ya don't. I'm — I'm stuck here, I know, that's okay. I'm where I should be."

"No, you ain't," Tolbert said sternly. "Ya should be home. That's where ya should be."

"No, Tolbert, no. I shot ya. I'm right where I should be."

"Yer not where ya should be. Ya should be at home, Bud. Ya didn't mean ta do it."

"Don't ya dare do anythin' t' get that money. We ain't got it, Tolbert. You make as much as I do, so I know you ain't got _two-hundred thousand dollars. _Don't do anything. I'm fine right where I am."

"Yeah, I totally believe that," Tolbert scoffed. "Ya look like death, Bud."

"I'm fine."

"Bud, ya haven't been sleepin' an' I know ya ain't ate nothin'. Ya've been here for three weeks. How long have ya slept in those three weeks, Bud?"

"Three hours," he answered softly.

"Bud—"

"I'm fine, I really am. I just — I can't sleep here, Tolbert. I'm too scared to. They — they don't treat me right when I'm awake, s' why would I trust them long enough t' sleep?"

"They hurt ya?"

"Jus' a few bruises," Bud sniffled. "Nothin' serious."

"Bud, they shouldn't lay a hand on you. That's assault."

"Don't think there's such a thing as assault after ya put this on," he pulled at the orange jumpsuit he was wearing. "They can do whatever they want an' get by with it. All they gotta do is say I wa'n't cooperating."

"Were you cooperating?"

"Didn't even ask me t' do nothin'. He just — he hit me," Bud confessed. "I think it's 'cause they think I did it with the intent t' kill."

"I don't care _what _they think. They are not allowed t' touch you like that. Are you listenin' t' me? _They can't do that t' you. _Not legally. That is assault."

"D'serve worse than a few bruises."

"Bud, stop that. I'm gonna getcha outta here, okay? We'll getcha outta here n get ya back on your medicine, get ya straightened up again. Perry told me it wasn't likely they'd let me bring ya your medicine, so I left it at home. But he said glasses were fine, and that I can talk to ya this way since ya won't call none of us."

"How'd ya get in here anyway? Thought I couldn't have no visitors."

"Perry arranged it. Don't know what he told 'em, but he got it t' where I could come see ya t'day. Don't blame yourself for this, a'ight? It's not as bad as you think it is."

"Uh-huh. And the Civil War was a civil disagreement," Bud quipped, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Very funny," Tolbert deadpanned.

"I thought it was," Bud shrugged innocently. "I... I think I'll head on back."

"Ya don't have to. We ain't talked long, Bud."

"I just... God, Tol, I shouldn't be near ya. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did and how much trouble I'm causin', n—"

"Hey, ya ain't causin' no trouble. It was an accident, I know it was. Ya didn't even know I was there, darlin'. It's okay."

Bud nodded slightly.

"Bud... ya'd tell me if you were havin' them thoughts again, wouldn't ya?"

"How'd you know that?" he asked a little defensively.

"Ya ain't had your medicine for three weeks, Bud. I know how ya are without it."

"I'm fine. Not like I can do anythin' while I'm here."

Tolbert sighed and stood up. Bud stood up as well, glancing at the door.

"Can... can I hug you, please?" Bud whispered.

"Yeah, kid."

Bud wrapped his arms around Tolbert, letting his head lay on his shoulder. Tolbert's arms wrapped around him, and Bud squeezed his eyes shut to will away the unshed tears in his eyes. He knew that it was probably the last bit of comfort he would receive for a while; he had no reason to believe otherwise.

Tolbert had been kind enough to allow him to hug him. Bud knew that Tolbert probably didn't want him living with him, and he was fine with that. Tolbert shouldn't want him to live with him.

"I love ya, Bud."

"I love ya too."

—

On Saturday, Bud was released. He'd gathered his possessions and changed into the clothes he'd worn to his arraignment — his white button-up, a pair of black slacks, and his nicest pair of dress shoes — and was led to the door that he had to go through. He grimaced when he saw the words _Inmates Release, _but he had been an inmate for nearly four weeks.

He stepped outside, spotting Tolbert leaning against his red Chevy Colorado. Bud averted his gaze to the ground and watched each step he took. He stopped walking when he got close to the truck.

"Thought I told ya not t' do that."

"Since when have I ever listened t' what ya tell me t' do?" Tolbert retorted. "I ain't gonna let ya sit in there n kill yerself."

"I already told ya I couldn't—"

"Not eatin' n not sleepin' will kill ya, Bud. Get in the truck."

Bud did as he was told. Tolbert got in on the driver's side and started the engine.

"I got yer medicine at my place. It's in the cabinet in the bathroom."

"Okay."

"Just be sure t' read the labels. I highly doubt you wanna accidentally take one of them pain pills they gave me. They knock ya down in less than ten seconds."

"Strong ones?"

"Real strong."

"Reckon that's 'cause of me?"

"Not... not because of you. I don't blame ya for what happened. I woulda done the same thing you did — shoot first, ask questions later."

"Don't make it right," Bud stated, his voice trembling. "_I shot you. _I shouldn't be here."

"Yes, you should. Ya shoulda been home the day it happened. Got that? This ain't your fault, nor has it ever been your fault. It happens. Freak accidents happen. We're gonna get you home, give ya yer medicine, make ya some food, an' put ya t' bed. Ya ain't slept in three weeks and I honestly have no idea how you're still goin'."

"Poppy always says I'm stubborn like ya. Says I can do anythin' I put my mind to."

"Don't think he meant stayin' awake for three weeks."

"He didn't, but—but I jus' couldn't sleep while I was there, Tol."

"I know. We'll getcha straightened out. We always do."

—

Bud had changed into a sleeveless shirt and a pair of shorts the instant they got to Tolbert's house. He shuffled to the bathroom across the hall, opening the cabinet and grabbing the orange bottle that had the top half of the label ripped off. He always ripped the top half of the label off so he could tell his medication apart from Sally's.

He still read the label, just to ensure that he had the right bottle. His heart skipped a beat. _Lithium? _He didn't take Lithium; he took Symbyax. He knew for a fact that it was Symbyax because his doctor had plainly told him that he'd tried everything before putting him on that; that he hadn't wanted to put him on it. But nothing else had worked with Bud and he ended up with it.

Bud went to the living room, finding that Tolbert had his back to him.

"Tolbert, I don't take Lithium."

Tolbert's frame tensed. He must've hidden the wrong bottle in his room, then. Bud knew nothing about what he struggled with and he had planned to keep it that way, but apparently, they both tore the top half of the labels off of the bottles.

"Lithium? You sure?" Tolbert asked, deciding to play dumb.

"Yeah. I take Symbyax," Bud answered, his brows furrowed. "You know that. Ya heard what Doc said 'bout 'em; how he didn't wanna put me on those but he had no choice since nothin' else worked on me."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed, turning around. "Give it."

Bud handed him the bottle. Tolbert left the room and Bud followed him. They entered Tolbert's room, Tolbert crossing and pulling the drawer to his nightstand open. He grabbed the bottle out of it and set the other on top of the nightstand before closing the drawer.

"Here."

Bud approached and took the bottle out of his outstretched hand.

"Why d' you have Lithium?" Bud queried, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tolbert sighed and looked at Bud, who was something between concerned and exhausted.

"Bipolar depression. Ever heard of it?"

"Yeah..."

"I hate it with ev'rythin' in me. I hate havin' t' take those stupid pills, but I do it. I... I feel like I can control my temper better that way. When I don't take 'em, or I run out 'cause I think I have more than what I actually do, I-I have the tendency t' lash out n say the meanest things an' I don't think straight. Heck, most of the time I don't think straight anyways."

"You never told me that."

"It's not somethin' I'm proud of, Bud. I keep it hidden from ev'rybody."

"When?" Bud asked.

"When what?"

"When'd ya get diagnosed?"

"Right after I moved out. I didn't tell anybody. I'm ashamed of it, Bud. I don't need anyone knowin' about it. No one 'cept you n Doc, anyway," Tolbert looked at the floor for a second. He shook his head lightly. "Ya just don't understand."

"I understand plenty. Y' know, like how mine is kept b'tween me, you, Mama, n Poppy. What I don't understand is why ya have half the label ripped off."

"Makes me feel a little better if I don't have t' look at my name ev'ry time I take it," Tolbert admitted. "How 'bout you?"

"Helps me tell mine apart from Mama's since every bottle from the pharmacy is orange. I just... I don't know," he let out a breathless chuckle. "That's — that's the main reason for it. Reckon I don't like seein' my name on the bottle either."

"Reckon we're more alike than I thought," Tolbert chuckled sadly. "I jus' — God, Bud, I never want ya t' be the way I am. I'm scared I'm gonna end up hurtin' you, or one of our siblin's, or Mama, or Poppy. I can't — I can't control everything that happens. I can't control when I snap or—or when I hit someone sometimes. I can't control how I feel. Can't control the anger or-or the despair, or anything else for that matter. I hate it."

"Tol?"

He looked at Bud, his eyes glistening with tears.

"Go take yer medicine. Ya need to."

"I understand," Bud spoke quietly. "I can't control how I feel neither. There's a few days that I can't even convince myself ta get outta bed. I mean... it's honestly worse now. I mean, my — oh God, Tol, how do I even put this into words?"

"Come sit down, darlin'." Tolbert sat down on the edge of the bed. Bud did as he was told, sitting down beside his brother. "I'm sorry for tellin' ya so much, Buddy. I shoulda just told ya why I had the Lithium and let ya go on about yer day. Now ya've got what you've been dealin' with n ev'thin' I told ya on yer shoulders. I'm so sorry."

"Nonono, it's okay. I want — I want t' be here for you just like you are for me," Bud told him shakily. "I want t' help ya."

"Y' can't help me, Bud, that's the thing," Tolbert lowered his voice.

"Yes, I can," he insisted. "Let me help."

Tolbert exhaled deeply through his nostrils, looking at Bud, who was pleading silently with Tolbert to agree to it. Bud felt terribly guilty and he wanted to help Tolbert as much as he could. He was supposed to be Tolbert's caretaker anyway, so what would it hurt to help Tolbert the way he'd helped Bud?

"A'ight," Tolbert agreed softly. "Reckon we'll tell each other ev'rythin'. I love ya, kid."

"I love ya too."

—

On Monday, Bud was back at work. He'd slept the majority of Saturday and Sunday, and had assured Tolbert that he was well enough to work. Tolbert had even taken him to get his car — a light-blue SUV — the night before.

Now, sitting in the office, waiting for his father to arrive, Bud anxiously tapped his foot. He really didn't have a reason to be nervous. He was just going to try to work out a deal with him. Bud had missed three weeks of work, and Tolbert had been gone as well. Someone had to pick up the slack, and Bud would more than gladly do it. Maybe it would ease his conscience a little.

"Mornin', son," Ran'l greeted as he entered the office.

"Mornin', Poppy."

Ran'l sat down at the desk, a coffee cup in hand. He set it down and clasped his hands together, letting them rest on the surface of the desk and leaning forward slightly.

"How can I help ya?"

"I want t' make a deal with you," Bud informed him, trying to keep his voice steady.

"A deal?" Ran'l quirked a brow. "What type of deal?"

Bud bit down on his lip and lowered his head, trying to calm his racing heart.

"I know what I did caused a bunch of trouble. Y'all are behind schedule n it's all my fault and — I know Tolbert can't work right now. I'll do my work and Tolbert's, pull triple shifts if I have to, as long as ya pay Tol like ya always do."

"Bud—"

"Please, Poppy," Bud pleaded with him. "I can do it. Someone's gotta pick up the slack an' it might as well be me. I'm the reason he can't work."

"Bud, I'm payin' him his normal wages anyways. Ya don't have to do this."

"But I want to, Poppy. I caused a lotta trouble, made Tolbert t' where he ain't able t' work right now. With two of yer men gone for three weeks, ya had t' fall behind. We can catch up, we can. Just — just let me do both of 'em."

"I don't know if your body can handle it, Bud."

"I can, _I know _I can. _Please, _Poppy," he pleaded.

"On the condition, you take the second shift in the office. Second shift is office duty," Ran'l negotiated.

"Yes, sir," Bud agreed immediately.

"Good. Never thought I'd get talked int' lettin' you triple your workload."

"Thank ya, Poppy. Please don't tell Tolbert. He don't need t' know."

"A'ight. Tolbert won't know nothin' 'bout it. I promise."

—

Bud had expected at least one of his brothers to be mad at him. So when he made his way to the mill to start what would be one of the longest days of his life, he was met with a glare from Calvin. Bud just averted his gaze and started to work.

"Hey, Buddy. Ain't seen ya in a while."

"Yeah, well, I've been locked up," he responded a little harshly. He'd been off of his medication for so long that he had to adjust to it again, and it was really taking its toll with his mood. "Can't see me when I'm in a jail cell."

"That's where ya belong," Calvin drawled.

Bud flinched and kept working. He wouldn't let what Calvin said bother him.

"Sorry fer snappin', Pharmer," he muttered after a moment.

"It's okay."

Bud had his doubts about that. Calvin seemed to be the only one that felt the way that he should; he seemed to hate Bud and everything about him, and that was how he should've felt. Bud didn't blame him one bit; he hated himself, too. He hated himself for what he'd done to Tolbert, and had wondered on more than one occasion what might happen if he didn't exist anymore. He'd wondered about what might've happened if he didn't exist at all, too.

Neither one was too pleasant, but Bud couldn't gain control of his thoughts. He couldn't stop them and once he'd thought of it, he thought about it for hours and hours on end, thinking about each possibility as thoroughly as he could. If he didn't exist at all, there was a good chance that Tolbert never would have gotten shot. He would be just fine and he would be able to do his work.

If Bud didn't exist at all, there might've been someone better than him that was born in his place. Someone that was capable of making their family proud, someone who wouldn't shoot their older brother on accident, someone who wouldn't cause so much trouble. Maybe someone who was loved by their family and wouldn't have to feel as though they were walking on thin ice around everybody.

"_BUD!_" Jim screeched. Bud jumped, startled, and whipped around to look at him. "What're ya doin'?!"

"Sorry, sorry," Bud shook his head. He must've gotten lost in his thoughts again. He had to focus. He'd caused enough trouble to last a lifetime, he didn't need to cause any more.

Pharmer sent him a sympathetic look, but he didn't say anything. Bud just grabbed another board and stacked it. He was fine, everything was fine.

—

When Bud got home that evening, Tolbert wasn't home. He found a note on the table saying that he'd gone to pick up a pizza and his prescription and that he would be back soon. Bud hadn't thought anything of it and went to his room, tossing his keys on the nightstand and taking his contacts out before grabbing a clean change of clothes and heading to the bathroom.

He took a quick shower and headed to his room once he'd finished, grabbing his glasses and putting them on. He didn't mind to wear them around Tolbert and the rest of the family; they didn't care what he looked like. Bud liked wearing his glasses at home, but he didn't like wearing them in public.

A knock sounded on the front door. Bud answered it, finding Perry.

"Hey, Perry," Bud greeted with a small smile. "What're you doin' here?"

"I need t' talk t' you n Tolbert. Where is he?"

"He went out for a few minutes. He'll be back soon. C'mon, we'll go t' the kitchen."

Bud led him to the kitchen and snatched the note off of the table, wadding it up before tossing it in the trash. He'd made a promise to keep Tolbert's bipolar depression a secret, and he would keep that promise if it was the last thing he did.

"You boys always keep this house s' clean?" Perry queried, sitting down at the table.

"It's usually a little cluttered," Bud snorted. "Tol's goin' crazy 'cause he can't do nothin' but clean the house. He can't even go out t' the shed and organize it 'cause it's where he stores all his heavy stuff."

"Well, at least he's doin' somethin'," Perry laughed.

"Yeah... 'S my fault he can't do nothin', though. Reckon I shouldn't laugh at him when I'm the reason why he's like this."

"Oh, don't blame yourself, Bud. It was all an accident. Your father is allowing me t' review the security cameras, but it's takin' a while."

"That's fine. Perry, is a pistol enough evidence t' say I had a plot t' murder Tolbert? 'Cause that's the only thing they coulda found—"

"I wasn't gonna say anythin' 'til Tolbert got here, but c'mere, Bud. You're gonna have t' answer some questions for me. It's gonna clear up some things in the police report, and it's gonna ease my mind if I get the answers I want."

"Okay...?"

Bud sat down across from him, taking the papers that Perry passed to him.

"Now, I've separated the report. I did have it stapled t'gether, but after reading what I did and seeing photos of their evidence, I want t' show ya those first."

"The only thing they coulda found was the pistol, Perr—" Bud cut himself off after moving the first sheet, finding a photograph of the orange bottle he'd thrown away the day before it happened. "Oh no."

"Bud... what the heck are you doin' with Symbyax?" Perry inquired, leaning forward slightly.

"It's for... for my depression. Nothin' else would work on me," he admitted quietly. "I forgot I threw that bottle away in my room."

"What's with the label, Bud?"

"Mama's got some medicine she's gotta take that she keeps in the medicine cabinet. I rip the top half off so I can tell 'em apart."

"Makes sense. Bud... listen, they're tryin' t' make this out like yer addicted to 'em or whatever, and that you had abused them when you shot your brother."

"Nonono, that's not true at all. I take one a day, just like I'm supposed to. I take it when I first get up so I don't forget."

"Keep lookin', Bud. That your learner's permit?"

"Yeah. I took it out the day I got my license and left it on the dresser. My license is in my wallet if ya don't believe me."

"I believe you, Bud. It's part of my job to believe you, and I ain't dumb enough t' believe that they did all this with just cause. When they arrested you, what did they tell ya?"

"Jus' that I had the right t' remain silent. That anythin' I said could and would be used 'gainst me."

"Did ya say anythin'?"

"Asked 'em why they was arrestin' me when Tolbert was bleedin' out on the floor. They didn't answer me, though. They — God, Tolbert went unconscious and—and they forced me t' go downstairs. I didn't wanna leave him there," Bud burst into a sob. "They—they just _left him there, _Perry."

"Oh God, listen ta me. Ya listenin'? If ya don't mind, Bud, I want your permission t' access your medical records. If I can get the list of the other medications ya tried before yer doctor gave ya the one you're on now, and make sure it's only that, I can easily disprove what they're sayin' on that. With your permission."

"Like — like you'd tell ev'ryone I got somethin' wrong in my head?"

"Not... not like that, no. It's just a matter of chemicals, Bud. A chemical imbalance. More people deal with it than you think. It will explain the Symbyax easily and I can at least prove you weren't under the influence when you shot Tolbert."

"But... _Perry, _people'd know I got somethin' wrong with me. Somethin' that makes me think these horrible, horrible thoughts that I can't get rid of, and — what happens if I don't let ya disprove it?"

"The prosecution is gonna fight real hard t' prove that you were abusing the drugs. They're gonna go out, reach the most realistic limit that they can. Likely one such as ya tried t' kill Tolbert 'cause he took the pills away from ya."

Bud paled significantly. He let out a shaky breath, his eyes fixated on the surface of the table. He didn't know what he could do; he didn't want people to know that he had depression. He didn't want people to think that he abused his prescription either.

"Bud! Hey, I'm back!" Tolbert called out. Bud jumped, startled, and watched as he entered the kitchen. "Oh, hey, Perry."

Tolbert set the pizza down on the table and grabbed the paper bag off of the top of it.

"What're you doin' here?"

"Talkin' with your brother. The police report and their evidence is disturbing, to say the least. Especially the allegations they're makin' against your brother."

"What allegations?" Tolbert inquired, tossing the bag on the counter.

"They think I was on drugs when I did it," Bud answered. "Here."

"This is just yer prescription—"

"That no one knows about. Well... Perry does now, but... oh my God, Tol," he whispered.

"Are they really so desperate that they accuse a _sixteen-year-old child _of somethin' like that?" Tolbert looked up at Perry.

"Apparently so," Perry sighed. "They had no good reason for that allegation from what Bud's told me so far."

"They didn't. Isn't it illegal to search a house without a warrant?"

"Without just cause, yes, it is. But if they suspect something such as _attempted murder, _they have the right. They searched Bud's room. That's it."

"Perry..."

"Yes, Bud?"

"Y' can get the records," Bud consented. "But I don't — I'm not sure about lettin' you tell everybody in Pike County I have somethin' wrong with my head."

"Ya ain't got nothin' wrong with your head," Perry muttered. "It's nothin' t' be ashamed of, Bud. I'm not gonna force ya t' make a decision now. I want you t' come t' my office on Wednesday, preferably around eleven, and we'll discuss everything then. Alright?"

"A'ight. I'll... I'll let Poppy know. How long will it take?"

"Maybe around an hour? Maybe a little longer, I don't know. It might be an hour or two hours, depending on how many questions you have. I'm sure your father will understand, Bud."

"Yeah..." Bud breathed, his eyes focusing on the table again. "I'll — I'll be there."

"Good. Well... now that you two know what's bein' said, and I know you ain't doin' nothin' ya shouldn't, I'll take my leave. I'll see you tomorrow, Bud."

"A'ight."

—

Bud gulped as he pulled in the parking lot, shutting off his vehicle. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and got out, closing and locking the doors before making his way inside. Bud didn't necessarily want to be there, but if he wanted to know what was going on, he would show up.

He entered the building, Aunt Betty smiling at him.

"Third door on the left, darlin'."

"Thank ya," he murmured.

Bud walked down the hall, knocking on the door that had Perry's name on it.

"Come in."

Bud opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

"Hi, Bud," Perry smiled at him. "Have a seat n I'll be right wit'cha. Nonono, Miss Miller, another client just came in. Yes, I can finish this call, I'm sure he won't mind."

Bud sat down, anxiously picking at his nails. He was tired, and he was sore, as he was still trying to adjust to pulling triple shifts. No one but Ran'l knew it; Ran'l had told his other sons to keep out of the office during the afternoon, which left Bud with a few hours to himself to catch his breath and cool off. It gave his swollen ankles a chance to rest, too.

Bud hadn't taken his medicine since he found out what allegations were being brought against him. He had a feeling Tolbert would kill him if he found out that Bud had tossed over half a bottle of his medicine in the trash, but he didn't care. He didn't need it. He didn't need to take them, and he would prove it.

"Alright, thank you."

Perry sighed exasperatedly after hanging up, looking at Bud, who raised a brow.

"That woman, I swear," Perry grumbled, earning a snort of laughter. "Anyway, lets getcha started on your case. It's gonna be fine; I've got some good witnesses lined up. Tolbert is our star witness, other than you."

"I'm gonna have t' get on the stand?" Bud squeaked.

"You wanna get outta this?"

"Yeah."

"Then yes, you have t' get on the stand. It'll be fine, Bud. If they get out of line with you, I will gladly put them in their place. That's why we have objections."

"Okay."

"Now... I do hate doin' this t' you. I know it's somethin' ya've prob'ly pushed t' the back of yer mind and ya don't wanna remember it, but I need t' know what happened that day, Bud. As detailed as you can possibly make it."

"I... I'd just gotten home. I'd gone t' McCarr t' pick up my contacts n my prescription, an' had got home at around three-thirty. If it wasn't three-thirty, it was jus' a few minutes before. I went upstairs t' my room, put the keys down, set the contacts and prescription on my desk before I went to the bathroom. Well... I grabbed the prescription n put it in the bathroom."

Bud licked his lips and took a shaky breath, staring down at his lap.

"The sink was on when I heard the front door slam open. It slammed against the wall like the police were about t' raid the house or somethin', Perry. So — so I turned off the sink and went t' the banister, looked over it. A masked man with a gun was there. It looked like a double-barrel shotgun, but I'm not sure. I wasn't close enough t' really tell, ya know? I got scared and knew I couldn't call anybody 'cause he'd hear me. So I texted Tolbert.

"The texts didn't deliver, so I went t' Mama n Poppy's room n got the pistol that Poppy hid in case someone ever broke in. I'd just loaded it and was tryin' t' calm myself down when somethin' crashed near the stairs. I thought the man mighta came up while I was in Mama n Poppy's room — I'd closed the door when I first went in — and-and I went out t' check the rooms."

Bud fought against the tears that wanted to escape, taking a few seconds to compose himself before continuing.

"I'd made it t' my room when I heard someone behind me. It sounded like he was still on the stairs, y'know? Like — like nowhere close to the wall, but still upstairs? So I turned and shot the pistol, thinkin' it would scare 'em off. Instead of a hole in the wall, Tolbert was standing against it with his hand over his chest. He—he'd been wearing a light yellow shirt, and it had a grass stain near his stomach 'cause he'd fell the last time he wore it. He just stared at me with his eyes real wide and — and he looked _terrified._

"I dropped the gun and ran over to him when he stumbled. I caught him and lowered him to the floor before goin' and gettin' a towel. I put pressure on the wound when I got back, but he was losin' _so much blood, _Perry. I don't — I don't think he wanted me t' call the police. But I did anyway. He needed an ambulance an—an' oh God, it was so bad. Tolbert — he, he tried his best t' tell me that he was okay. I knew he wa'n't, Perry. His eyes were glazed over n he had this weird look in his eyes when the police fin'lly got there.

"They cuffed me almost instantly and I asked why they were arrestin' me when he was bleedin' out on the floor. They didn't answer. They forced my t' my feet and — and when I looked back, Tol was unconscious. I screamed. I screamed and told 'em that he wasn't conscious n they acted like it wa'n't serious, Perry. My brother was _bleeding out _on the floor an' they both dragged me downstairs and out the door. They left him there alone, Perry. The ambulance wasn't there when they left with me."

"Was there another car there? Another police car?" Perry amended swiftly.

"No," Bud shook his head. "Just my SUV, Tol's truck, and — and what looked like a Harley-Davidson motorcycle."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"My SUV, Tol's truck, and a Harley-Davidson," Bud repeated, lifting his gaze. "What're you lookin' at me like that for?"

"_Bud, _I want you to think about that list you just gave me."

Bud pulled a face, but he cast his eyes down while he thought about it.

"We don't have a Harley," he said after a moment. "We prefer side-by-sides and four-wheelers. We know how t' ride one, but — we don't very often. Heck, Perry, I can't even think of someone I know who owns one."

"There's my point. It's not yours, not Tolbert's, doesn't belong to anyone you know 'cause ya don't know anyone with a Harley. Bud, either he was still there, or he took off on foot in the woods."

"Oh my God," Bud breathed.

"Did they ask you what happened?"

"No."

"They just put ya under arrest without givin' ya the reason?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Listen... I'm not gonna lie t' ya, Bud. It ain't gonna be easy. But I promise you, I'm gonna do my very best t' get you cleared. I've got sev'ral character witnesses, several people who are willin' t' take up for you. I'm gonna try my very best t' get you outta this, alright?"

"Alright," he nodded slightly.

"Great. You can go now if you want."

"Thanks, Perry. Do I need t' come back again?"

"I'll let ya know if ya do."

Bud nodded and stood, moving to the door and pulling it open. He closed the door and sighed. Bud wasn't going to be alright, was he?

—

**_December 2017_**

Thanksgiving came and went without much trouble. Bud had been in a horrible mood that day, but Tolbert figured he was just having a bad day. It was an unfortunate day to have a bad day, but Bud managed to get through it without snapping too much, and always apologized if he did snap.

But during the first week of December, Tolbert had jokingly insulted Bud and it somehow led to an argument. It had been a remark about the boy's terrible case of bed head, and it hadn't been said with the intent to offend him. Yet somehow it had, and now the two were so deep in the argument that there was no way that one of them could just walk away.

"Why d'ya always have to insult me? I've never done a dagon thing t' you!" Bud yelled.

"I didn't mean t' offend you, Bud! I was _joking. _I always joke with ya. Ya've never had a problem with it before!" Tolbert retaliated, his face turning red. He was trying to keep from losing his temper, but he didn't see how that was going to work when Bud kept going on and on.

"I don't know why ya always have t' insult me. I'm sick of it! What if I insulted you every time I saw ya?! Huh? Would that make it diff'rent? Would it still be funny t' you?!"

"Bud, calm—"

"I don't wanna calm down!" he interrupted (quite rudely), turning away from Tolbert. He moved and grabbed something, but Tolbert couldn't see what it was from where he was standing. "I wanna go home."

"You can't. Right now, this is your home. I know ya don't like it, but ya gotta stay here, Bud."

"No. No, this ain't my home," he denied. "Never has been and never will be. I don't want it t' be my home."

"Bud—"

"Tolbert... you know somethin's off, don't ya?"

"Figured there was. Why?"

"I scared myself real good the other night," he admitted quietly. He turned around, allowing Tolbert's eyes to flick down at the knife that Bud twirled in his hand. Bud leaned against the kitchen island, his elbows propped up on it while he continued to twirl the knife. "I was in here doin' the dishes. Washed a knife and — I almost hurt myself. It scared me so bad, I shut the water off and ran t' my room. I cried for hours, Tol."

"What'd ya do that for?" Tolbert asked softly, his ice-blue eyes meeting Bud's hazel-green ones.

"I don't know," he whispered, shaking his head. "I just — I don't know. I caught myself before I did it, but it really scared me."

"How long ago was this?"

"Not too long... Friday? Maybe Saturday. Either the first or the second."

"Oh God. Ya need me t' call in—"

"No! I don't need those stupid pills."

"Bud... have you been takin' your medicine?"

"No. I don't need it, so why should I take it?"

Tolbert felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He could usually tell when Bud had been taking his medicine and when he hadn't, but apparently, he'd gotten a lot better at hiding it.

"Ya need it, Bud. If ya didn't, Doc wouldn't-a prescribed it t' you."

"I don't," he shook his head. "I don't need it! I'm not — I'm not addicted to it. I can give it up anytime I want. I don't want it no more!"

"But you _need it, _Bud! You're not addicted. It helps you, Bud. That's why ya need it. B'cause it helps you a whole lot. Ya don't even think about hurtin' yourself when you're takin' it like yer supposed to."

"I don't need it," he stated shakily.

"Bud, your body is used t' you takin' that medicine every day. You're gonna go through withdrawals if ya don't start takin' it again. How long's it been since ya took it?"

"Since that night Perry was here."

"Oh God, you've prob'ly already started goin' through withdrawals. Because you're accustomed to takin' Symbyax every day, Bud. You take it the way you're supposed to. There's nothin' wrong with that."

"I mean, I — I feel fine. I just... it's worse than before."

"Listen, I'll call in your prescription. We're gonna getcha straightened out again. Because, Bud, if you go on the witness stand the way you are right now, ya won't be able t' handle it. And by the time January fifteenth gets here, yer gonna be worse. Let's getcha straightened out an' we'll work through all this again, okay?"

"Okay," Bud nodded slightly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, honey. I shoulda known somethin' was wrong. Now, will you _please _put that knife down?"

"Sure thing," he laughed softly, turning and putting the knife in its rightful place. "Better?"

"Much better."

—

Tolbert had left Bud home alone because of a doctor's appointment. When he returned, he found the boy on the couch, hugging a pillow tightly with his eyes glued to the TV. He didn't seem to notice Tolbert, so when Bud started crying, Tolbert made his presence known.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," he sniffled.

"Why're you cryin'?" Tolbert asked exasperatedly.

"Ol' Yeller jus' got shot," Bud whimpered.

"Oh," Tolbert nodded, understanding why his brother was so emotional.

"Tolbert... what's gonna happen when I go t' court?"

"I don't know, darlin'," Tolbert sighed as he sat down beside him. He let the boy curl up against him. "Yer bein' tried as an adult. They're tryin' t' say you planned t' kill me... then they turn around and say yer addicted t' drugs. Their conspiracy is literally that I tried takin' 'em away from you n ya got mad n shot me."

"_No, _that's not it, no," Bud shook his head vigorously. "I'm sorry for what happened."

"It's fine, kid. Ya didn't mean t' do it."

"That don't make it right, Tol," his voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

"I know ya are, Buddy. Don't you worry none about it. _Oh! _I got yer prescription. I'll let ya by with not takin' one t'night, but you do it first thing in the mornin'. Understand me?"

"Mhm."

—

By the time Christmas rolled around, Bud was somewhat adjusted to his medicine again. His moods had improved and he wasn't as sensitive (for lack of a better term), so he and Tolbert got along just fine.

"How ya doin', darlin'?" Tolbert asked as he shuffled in the kitchen, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

"A'ight I reckon," Bud mumbled, shrugging lightly. "Tired. But a'ight."

"Want some coffee?"

"Please."

Tolbert poured the boy a cup of coffee and handed it to him. Bud sipped it and sat down on the barstool, setting the cup down on the counter.

"You take yer medicine this mornin'?"

"Mhm. Did you?"

"That's the first thing I do," Tolbert chuckled. "That what yer wearin' t' Mama n Poppy's?"

"Yeah. I just don't feel like wearin' jeans, or a flannel, or a button-up, or anythin' other than what I've got on."

"That's fine. You wear whatever you want."

"I intend to."

"Yeah, whatever. Christmas presents. Ya want yours now or later?"

"Later. We're gonna be rushed if we do it now," Bud pointed out.

"Good point."

—

When Bud showed up at Sally and Ran'l's home dressed in an oversized black sweatshirt and black sweatpants, Ran'l was surprised, to say the least. Bud was one that usually took pride in his appearance, but he clearly didn't care this year. His hair — while it looked nice — was a little frizzy and curly. He wore his glasses instead of his contacts, and wore his old beat-up Nikes.

Bud locked his car to keep the children out of it and looked over at Tolbert, who had decided he would rather ride with Bud than deal with trying to find a place to park his truck. (Every year someone complained they couldn't get out because of Tolbert's pickup.)

Ran'l and Perry were seated on the porch in rocking chairs, talking with one another. Bud spotted Roseanna sitting on the steps, watching the children out in the yard as they frolicked around and played. She must have been on babysitting duty, otherwise, she would have been in the kitchen helping with the cooking. Sally had worked it out to where each one of them would have a short break — that break being babysitting duty, which usually meant sitting on the porch and making sure the kids didn't kill each other.

"Hey, Buddy," she smiled as he approached.

"Hey," he forced a smile. Bud hurried inside and went upstairs to his room. He didn't really want to be there, but he was, and he supposed he really didn't have a choice in the matter.

He sat down at his desk, turning on the lamp. He looked behind him when he heard someone come up the stairs, finding Perry. Bud found it odd to see Perry in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans with a baseball cap. He was used to seeing him in a suit.

"Hey, Perry," he greeted as the man entered his room.

"Hey. Whatcha runnin' from everybody for?" Perry asked, shoving his hands in his pockets while he leaned against the wall.

"It's just a really bad day," Bud admitted quietly. "It's — Tolbert told ya what I did, right?"

"Throwin' your pills away? Yeah."

"I'm gettin' used to 'em again. It's just a really bad day."

"When I told you that, I didn't think ya'd do anything irrational. I thought it would be best if ya knew what they're going t' bring up in court, so I tried my best t' let you know what's goin' on. This is your case, after all. I don't want ya t' be in the dark about anythin', ya understand?"

"Yeah," Bud nodded.

"If there is anything ya wanna know or you're concerned about, all you have t' do is come t' the office, or call me, or text me if ya want, I don't care. I wanna help as much as I can. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Enough legal talk. We'll talk that the 27th. You do have the time for our meetin'?"

"Nine o'clock, right?"

"Yeah. Unless you wanna do it later."

"Nah, nine's fine. I get t' go in later that way," Bud told him, earning a laugh in response. "What? I can sleep in and go t' the meetin', then head on t' work."

"Nice t' know you're okay with it so you can sleep in," Perry laughed.

"Hey, Buddy," Tolbert smiled as he leaned against the doorway. "I told 'em ya ain't feelin' well. It's not a lie, 'cause ya ain't. Otherwise, ya wouldn't-a run up here like ya had someone chasin' ya."

"Thanks," Bud smiled softly. "I don't understand you, Tolbert."

"A lot of people don't," Tolbert shrugged. "But please explain."

"I shot ya n yer still actin' like nothin' happened. Ya act like nothin' happened at all, that I'm not the reason why ya nearly died—"

"I didn't nearly die," Tolbert rolled his eyes.

"Yes, ya did! Don't lie t' me, Tolbert. Cal told me ya nearly died, that they thought you wasn't gonna make it through that surgery."

"But I did. That's the point. I lived, it's all good."

"No, it ain't," Bud shook his head. "That's not the point at all. The point is that I almost killed you."

"Don't worry about it," Tolbert shook his head. "It's fine. Ev'ryone's alright, yeah?"

"Reckon so."

"See? It's alright, Buddy. An' I'm gonna have a cool scar after this. Might have t' change the story a little, but I'm gonna have a dang cool scar."

"Tolbert," Bud sighed exasperatedly.

"Alright, I'll stop. I love ya, kid."

"I love you too."

—

Once Bud and Tolbert returned home, Tolbert led the boy to the living room, where the Christmas tree was put up in the corner.

"Sit down, Buddy. That coat looks nice on ya," Tolbert complimented, fixing the collar of Bud's new jacket.

"Thanks, I guess," he mumbled. Allowing his voice to take on a teasing tone, he asked, "You ain't gonna kill me with that new pistol you got, are ya?"

"No, I ain't gonna kill you," Tolbert rolled his eyes. "This pistol ain't gonna hurt nobody unless it has to. Most I'll do with it probably is clean it n shoot at old boards that I can't use anymore."

"Never say it won't hurt nobody. Never thought I'd hurt anybody, but..."

"That's diff'rent. You were tryin' t' defend yerself."

"Don't matter. I still hurt you," Bud countered, his voice trembling terribly. "God, I nearly killed ya, Tol."

"Hey, stop that right now," Tolbert commanded. "I'm _fine, _a'ight? I'm fine, you're fine, that's all that matters right now."

"I'm real sorry for it," Bud whispered. "I didn't — I don't know why I didn't stop t' make sure no one was there. That was real dumb."

"Don't worry about any of that. Worry about the presents under the tree with yer name on 'em, will ya?"

Bud let out a breathless laugh and nodded.

"Good. Hang on, I'll find 'em in a second."

Tolbert set the case down and moved to the tree, kneeling down and pulling the remaining presents out from under it. He mumbled to himself while he sorted them, picking up the ones that had Bud's name scrawled on the paper. He had no doubt that Bud would probably make a joke about it (he always did) and set them on the coffee table while he shook his head.

"There."

"Dang, Tol, did you write that or did a headless chicken?" Bud jested, earning a playful glare in return.

"Shut up and open it."

Bud kept his head lowered and picked up one of the gifts, hiding an amused smirk from Tolbert. He opened the paper, taking out two leather-bound books. He flipped it over, finding his name engraved on the front. He glanced at Tolbert before opening it, finding that it was a notebook. Lifting the one on top, he found the bottom was the same way.

"There's no way—"

"I may have found somethin' you misplaced a while back. Figured ya'd use those. I'd say yer gettin' tired of writin' in the backs of your notebooks for school."

"Yeah... Where'd you even get these?"

"Online," Tolbert shrugged. "You've got another one, kid."

Bud set the notebooks beside him and leaned forward, grabbing the other.

"Y-ya know, really, those were enough," Bud mumbled.

"And I got ya another one anyway."

Bud (accidentally) ripped the paper and pulled out a smooth black frame. Within it was several photos of Bud and Tolbert, his favorite being the largest one. He was on Tolbert's back, both of them laughing and shirtless with frizzy hair. He couldn't remember what day it had been taken, but he knew that it was summer and it was hot, and that he and Tolbert had been playing jokes on almost everyone that day.

And below it, there was something typed out. Bud's eyes scanned the small block of text.

_To my favorite brother, who has made life a thousand times better for me. Throughout your life, we've shared many laughs and smiles — and while we've shared tears as well, I thought you'd appreciate something to cheer you up when you're down. Here's a small collection of my favorite memories with you._

_I love you, kid._

Bud's eyes watered and he wiped at them, sniffling while he tried to keep from crying. It seemed to be all that he did and he was tired of it.

"Ya a'ight?" Tolbert queried.

"Fine," he answered. He set the frame on the couch and moved to where Tolbert was, sitting on the floor beside him and wrapping his arms around him tightly. "I love you."

"I love you, kid."

—

Bud sighed as he entered Perry's office, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"Mornin', Bud. This is the last time I'll meet with ya before the trial, alright?" Bud nodded mutely, waiting for Perry to continue. "And this time, I'm askin' if you'll let me tell them exactly why ya had that bottle in your room."

Bud lowered his head a little. If he let Perry tell it, he could be cleared of that allegation almost immediately. If he didn't, he'd have a lot more to fight. _But, _if he allowed Perry to reveal his depression, everyone would know that there was something wrong with Bud. The upside to not allowing it was the fact that it would all stay hidden.

"Do it," Bud said quickly. "I mean, I've got nothin' t' lose at this point."

"Oh, you could lose quite a bit if they find ya guilty, which I highly doubt. I've got several witnesses lined up. Wanna hear the list?" Perry asked, shuffling a few papers on his desk.

"Sure."

"Alright... we have Tolbert, Roseanna, Pharmer, your father, your mother, Frank—"

"Did you just say Frank? As in _Frank Phillips?_"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Oh my Lord," Bud groaned. "I don't like him, Perry!"

"Well, he likes you. He's willin' t' testify in your defense, Bud."

"Ain't there someone else ya can get? Nancy? Jefferson? Uncle Harmon?"

"Harmon's already on the list. So's Alifair and Pharmer, and Jim, so don't start by listing them either. Now... your Uncle Harmon? That's a true victim of attempted murder. Jim Vance tried killin' that man as sure as I'm livin'."

"Why didn't he push that case?"

"He didn't have a single shred of evidence to prove that it was Jim Vance. If ya remember correctly, Bud, he was attacked from behind. He can't claim that he saw him 'cause he didn't, but he swears on his life that it was Crazy Jim."

"Crazy's puttin' it lightly," Bud remarked. Perry snorted at that. "Are ya _sure _ya can't get no one else but Frank? He's insane, Perry!"

"Yes, Bud. I'm sure. Besides that, he's already scheduled to appear."

"Oh God," Bud breathed. "Why would ya ever ask him anyways?"

"'Cause you need people t' clear yer name. Ya might not like him, Bud, but he's willin' t' get up there n clear your name. Ya understandin' me?"

"I'm not a child, Perry," Bud rolled his eyes. "I understand plenty o' things."

"I know that. I'm sorry if it came off that way, 'cause I assure you, that ain't what I meant at all. I'm just wantin' t' make sure ya fully understand everything — like the more people you have testifyin' in your defense, the better off you'll be. We've got a strong, solid case, but a few character witnesses never hurt none."

"Reckon so..." Bud was silent for a moment. "Did my records help you any?"

"As a matter of fact, they did," Perry beamed. "I was able to compile a list of every medication they gave you before giving you Symbyax. Now... now I want ya t' know that I will be askin' you about this on the stand, a'ight? But I don't think you gotta worry 'bout the stand too much. Not yet. It's gonna take a few days, and those few days are gonna be every other witness before you. Tolbert's gonna be our first witness."

"Okay. That's — that's fine, I mean... I'd rather have t' tell 'em why I have t' take it than have them accusin' me of usin' 'em the wrong way."

"You're a good kid. Judge Wagner knows you n he knows you're a good kid. I think we can win this pretty easily. We have enough evidence to prove everythin' ya told me, an' I have no doubt we can shoot down the prosecution's case in less than twenty minutes. Their case is based on an allegation, which really, should be illegal. It's nothin' but hearsay."

"I can understand why they assumed... it's kinda weird t' see a bottle with half the label ripped off, ain't it?"

"People rip labels off things all the time. That don't mean a thing."

Bud couldn't argue with that. He had a good point.

"We are gonna win this, Bud. I won't hold ya anymore. Go on, get outta here."

"Thanks, Perry."

—

**_January 2018_**

Bud had had a bad day. He'd dozed off for a couple of minutes and overslept (he hated insomnia with a burning passion), which made him late for work. Then he'd been sent to Pikeville to make a delivery, and had gotten stuck in traffic because of road work. After that, the saw broke down, which stopped production for the day, and Bud had been forced to spend most of his day in the office. And now? Well, now he couldn't sleep.

And maybe he wouldn't have minded it nearly as much if he didn't have to go to court the next morning.

So, with much chagrin, Bud got out of bed and went to Tolbert's room.

"Tol?" He spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Hm?" Tolbert hummed, looking over at him.

"I can't sleep."

"C'mere."

Bud shuffled to the bed and climbed on it, lying down beside Tolbert and curling up against him. Tolbert wrapped an arm around Bud, bringing his hand up and scratching the boy's scalp. Bud hummed and scooted a little closer.

"That feels nice," Bud murmured, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Does it?" Tolbert stifled a laugh, looking down at the boy in amusement.

"Mhmm... feels real nice, Tol'ert."

"Glad ya like it, darlin'," Tolbert chortled, not bothering to hide his amusement this time.

"Tol..."

"Yes, baby?"

"I'm real scared," Bud confessed, wrapping his arms around Tolbert's middle.

"I know you are," Tolbert spoke softly. "But it's gonna be alright. I talked t' Perry the other day n he said he'd object the second that other lawyer gets outta line with ya. It's gonna be alright, honey. We ain't gonna lose this. Nothin' bad's gonna happen t' you, I promise ya that much. I won't let it."

Tolbert lowered his head and planted a kiss on his brother's forehead.

"I don't wanna go t' prison," Bud sobbed.

"Ya ain't gonna go t' prison," Tolbert tried to assure him. He knew that if things didn't go the way they wanted it to, it was likely that Bud _would _go to prison. He didn't want that; Bud would get hurt in prison.

"If we don't—"

"We're gonna win. We've got too good a case t' lose, Bud."

Bud clenched the fabric of Tolbert's shirt in his hand, trying to calm himself down.

"How—how's your wound?" Bud asked, changing the subject.

"Alright. Healin' nicely, too. Ya wanna see it?"

"I... I dunno, Tol," Bud stammered.

"It's gonna be a really cool scar. So we'll change the story a little t' make it better. How 'bout I pitch ya some ideas, an' you tell me if they're good or not?" Tolbert suggested, already thinking up several different ways to make Bud laugh.

"A'ight," he agreed softly.

"Let's see, how about... I was down in Pikeville; ya know, like down an alleyway tryin' t' take a short cut t' my truck, and these guys came up t' me an' mugged me. Instead of jus' givin' 'em what they wanted, I tried t' fight an' one shot me. And the idiots forgot what they attacked me for, which is why I could still pay my bills in November."

"Tolbert," Bud tried to hide his amusement. It didn't work, as he ended up laughing while saying, "That's terrible!"

"Alright, geez. You're so picky. Uhm... A serial—"

"Stop right there, I know where it's goin'," Bud interrupted. "No one's gonna believe you were shot by a serial killer who missed his aim, Tolbert."

"It happens!"

"The one with you gettin' mugged is more believable than that, an' we all know there ain't no one crazy enough t' even attempt t' mug you. Yer known throughout Pike County, Mingo County, and Logan County as Crazy McCoy. Why on earth would they be that stupid?"

"They're not from Pike, Mingo, or Logan County," Tolbert offered.

"Oh yeah, they go from state t' state muggin' random people 'cause they're bored," Bud drawled sarcastically. "You can do so much better than that. I know you can. I've heard yer ghost stories n yer scary stories that ya come up with. They scare the livin' daylights outta me."

"Alright. How 'bout I was out huntin—"

"_No._"

—

Bud was a nervous wreck. He couldn't get his hands to stop shaking long enough to button his shirt, and he _really _didn't want to ask Tolbert for help.

"Hey, kiddo, ready t' go?"

"No," he huffed. "I can't get my stupid hands t' stop shakin'!"

"Here, I'll get it. All ya had t' do was tell me," Tolbert told him as he crossed the room. He buttoned the shirt and smacked Bud's bicep. "There. Tuck yer shirt in and grab yer phone. We gotta go."

—

Bud glanced at Perry, who patted the boy's shoulder as he sat down beside him. Across from them, at the other table, sat a woman dressed in a white shirt, grey cardigan, grey pencil skirt, and grey heels. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun on the back of her head, a diamond ring on her left ring finger.

"I'm in trouble, ain't I?" Bud nervously looked at Perry.

"With her? Nah. You'll be fine. Ya ain't gettin' on the stand t'day anyways. Tolbert is."

"Is that s'pposed t' make me feel better?" Bud raised a brow. "You know what's gonna happen if she implies I'm addicted t' drugs, Perry."

"He'll likely lose that temper of his an' she won't do it again."

"He'll be held in contempt for that."

"Not if he just answers her question," Perry countered, a sly smirk appearing on his face. "I've already talked with him about that, Bud. He knows what he can and can't do."

"Hope so," Bud mumbled.

—

Tolbert was called to the stand. Bud hadn't really noticed it before, but he now he noticed that Tolbert was wearing his denim button-up, the first few buttons unbuttoned and revealing the white bandage over the wound on his chest. He only wore it because the seatbelt bothered him if he didn't.

After being sworn in, Tolbert took his seat and let out a deep exhale through his nostrils. It was clear that he didn't want to be there, and Bud really couldn't blame him.

"For the record, please state your name," Perry requested as he stood up.

"Tolbert McCoy."

"Tolbert, how d' you know the defendant?" Perry asked as he crossed to the stand.

"He's my younger brother," Tolbert answered.

"And are the two of you... close?" Perry had obviously tried to think of a better word with the slight pause, but he couldn't.

"Yeah, I guess that's the word for it," he shrugged.

"Tolbert, what happened November the third, 2017?"

"I had gotten a call earlier that day from Mama sayin' that her n the rest of the children were goin' t' Pikeville. Poppy had a deliv'ry t' make in West Virginia, and he took the rest of the boys with him. It was Bud's day off, so he d'cided t' stay at home and Mama asked me t' check in on him ev'ry once in a while.

"I musta been out in the shed the first few times he texted me. For whatever reason there is, the WiFi don't reach out there, and I didn't get his texts until I went back in the house. He said someone was in the house n that he had a gun, what looked like a double-barrel shotgun. So I grabbed m' keys n I headed over t' the house."

Tolbert paused and swallowed, glancing at Bud.

"When I got there, the door was open, and a motorcycle was parked out front. Not a single one of us McCoys own a motorcycle; we jus' don't like 'em too much n never wanted one. I went in n saw a man slippin' out the back door. I thought he mighta done somethin' t' Bud 'cause the house was dead silent, so I went upstairs.

"He didn't know I was there. I managed t' stay s' quiet Bud didn't even know I was there. He thought I was close t' the banister and shot at the wall that I'd moved next to, and hit me instead of it. He never meant t' harm anyone. He shot t' scare an' hit me instead."

Bud clenched his fists under the table, fighting to keep from crying. His eyes fixated on the surface of the table, licking his lips and letting out a shaky breath.

"He caught me when I fell n he lowered me t' the floor. God, he was so scared. He ran n got a towel, and he came back n put pressure on it. It didn't really help none with the bleedin', and he — he went n called the police."

Tolbert stopped for a moment, his brows furrowing while he licked his lips.

"When he came back, I told him he was a stupid idiot fer callin' them. I knew that they were gonna arrest him when they got there. He ignored me n just... picked me up n held me... reckon he actually cradled me in his arms. He ignored me when I called him a stupid idiot... he was so scared, God, I've never seen him like that b'fore.

"He applied pressure again and tried t' stop the bleeding. He kept apologizin' an' sayin' that he didn't know I was there. I don't even remember the police gettin' there. But I remember hearin' Bud scream b'fore I blacked out."

"Is that all that happened?" Perry questioned.

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded.

"No further questions," Perry stated as he turned toward the judge.

"Cross-examine, Miss Barker?"

"Yes, Your Honor." She stood as Perry took his seat, rounding the table. Her heels clicked against the tile floor, and she stopped near Tolbert. "The defendant is your... brother, correct?"

"Yes."

"May I ask the difference b'tween your ages?"

"Ten years."

Miss Barker looked a little shocked, but quickly shook it off.

"And you're older?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "I'm twenty-six and he's sixteen."

"The defendant was arrested and charged with attempted murder — _your _murder, to be precise — and the police, with just cause, searched his room. They found a pill bottle that had half of the label ripped off, and it was Symbyax. Is your brother addicted to drugs?"

"No, he is not," Tolbert responded through gritted teeth. He wouldn't lose his temper while he was on the stand; he would wait until he was free to go and he could go outside for a couple of minutes.

"Are you sure? Teenagers his age are very good at hiding things from—"

"Randolph McCoy, Junior has never abused drugs in his life. He's a good kid. He was raised right and he couldn't lie if his life depended on it, so _no, _he isn't addicted to drugs. Bud is a good kid. This entire case was made up 'cause he told them he shot me on accident and they found the gun at the scene."

"Why would he need something like Symbyax?" Miss Barker demanded.

Tolbert glanced at Bud and Perry. Perry shook his head.

"I'm not goin' t' answer that," Tolbert stated calmly.

"Alright. In that case, did your brother ever confide anything to you that could be considered... alarming? Disturbing, perhaps?" she pressed.

"He tells me everything. Everybody has thoughts that are disturbing, and there are times he scares himself. He comes to me when he does."

He could see Bud heave a sigh of relief out of the corner of his eye. Tolbert shifted slightly in the chair, watching the woman as she began to pace back and forth.

"That bandage there... is that where the wound is?"

"Eh, the general area," Tolbert nodded. "It's more... here."

Tolbert pointed to where the bullet had entered his body.

"And you still have to bandage it?"

"Only when I go somewhere. If I don't, the seatbelt rubs against it an' it don't feel too good."

"Does your brother know the extent of the injury he inflicted upon you?"

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded. "He's sixteen, he's not stupid."

He didn't miss the way she quirked a brow. Tolbert wouldn't care to admit that he didn't like her; that he thought she was a stuck-up snob that had been roped into a case she didn't want to be a part of. That much was evident by the way she composed herself.

"How severe was it?"

"Eh... wasn't too bad, y'know? I was down a few days n that was it."

"Just a few days?"

"Well... I mean, I'm still not workin' — my employer won't let me — but I'm fine. Bud's helped me out a lot with the things I couldn't do when I got him outta jail, but... I don't reckon you'd care too much about that."

"You're right. We're not focused on what he did _after _you bailed him out. We're focused on what he did ta you on November third of last year," Miss Barker stated harshly. "Why would you defend him?"

"Because it was an accident!" Tolbert raised his voice. "He was tryin' t' defend himself. Did ya not listen t' a single word I said b'fore you stood up?"

"I want t' know what he was doin' with Symbyax."

"And I've told you I ain't gonna answer that."

"Uh, Your Honor, objection!" Perry stood up quickly. "She's harassing the witness."

"Sustained. Stop harassing him, Miss Barker. He's already stated he won't answer the question."

"No more questions, Your Honor."

—

Bud glanced at Tolbert as he sat down beside him on the couch.

"Why didn't you tell her?" he asked quietly.

"Perry told me not to. He said that's somethin' that you and you alone should answer."

"I'm sorry you had t' get up there. Y-ya didn't have t' defend me, I woulda understood if ya didn't. I did shoot ya, after all. Ya shouldn't — my God, ya shouldn't've defended me."

"I'm goin' t' defend you. Ya didn't mean t' do it."

Bud sniffled and forced his tears back. He didn't want to cry. If he were to judge by the way everything had gone on the first day of the trial, they were going to lose. And they were going to lose terribly.

"Tol... can I sleep with you t'night?" Bud whispered.

"Yeah, kiddo. Go get ready for bed."

Bud nodded and did as he was told. Tolbert got up and went to his room, changing into a pair of sweatpants and leaving his shirt off. He shuffled over to his bed and got in it, grabbing the TV remote and turning it on.

Tolbert flipped through the channels and stopped when he found a Disney movie marathon. Bud liked Disney movies and Tolbert didn't mind them much.

Bud entered the room and rushed over, climbing on the bed and curling up against his older brother. Tolbert turned the volume up a little, setting the remote on the nightstand beside him.

"Whatcha sleepin' in here for, kid?" Tolbert queried, pulling his fingers through Bud's thick honey-brown hair.

"Don't wanna be alone," Bud murmured in response. That wasn't the full truth, but it was enough to appease Tolbert. He wanted to spend the last however many days he had with Tolbert. He didn't want to be alone, and he didn't want to waste the last few days he had with Tolbert.

"Ya sure that's it?"

"Mhm."

"I know you, Bud," Tolbert muttered. "Somethin's bothering ya."

"I... I don't wanna be alone. I don't — I don't wanna waste the time I have left with ya. _Please, _don't make me leave."

"I'm not, honey, I'm not," Tolbert assured him. "What d' ya mean the time ya have left?"

"We're not gonna win," Bud whispered tearfully, his voice trembling. "There's no way we can win after what went down t'day."

"Hey, nothin' happened, Bud. It's just the first day of the trial an' yer stressed n scared. Ya shouldn't even have t' go t' court. It was a accident."

"N-no!" Bud exclaimed. "We're not gonna win. There's _no way _she's gonna keep lettin' ev'ryone get by with not answerin' her question."

"It's gonna be alright, baby. I promise."

—

On the third day of the trial (Wednesday), Bud finally opened social media again. And almost immediately, he found articles about him. He read through the comments, finding some that gave him the benefit of the doubt and others claiming that he deserved life and even worse, the death penalty.

Bud's heart leaped to his throat. How could he possibly keep a positive attitude with these types of comments from people that didn't even know him?

He went on the messenger app and found several message requests. His hope for winning the case dwindled as he read each request, and he wished that he'd never opened social media again.

_Trying to kill your brother? That's shameless and evil. I hope they give you the most severe penalty the state of Kentucky has._

_I hope you get the same thing your brother did._

_Why don't ya just do the taxpayers a favor and kill yourself? We don't have to waste money on you in prison that way._

And the more he read, the more Bud wanted to just curl up and die. He hadn't meant to shoot Tolbert. He hadn't meant to cause so much trouble.

His heart stopped when he read one message.

_You probably did it because of drugs. You're guilty and won't admit it. You teenagers seem to have it in your mind that you can do anything you please when you please, and that's not how the world works. If your brother did something, it was likely to protect you. I hope they give you the worst penalty possible._

Bud didn't even know these people, had never even heard their names before. Without much thought, Bud hurled his phone across the room and ran out of his room.

He nearly ran into Tolbert, but he managed to make it to the kitchen before Tolbert caught up with him. Tolbert wrapped his arms tightly around Bud's waist and held him in place, refusing to let him move.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Bud fought against him, trying to wrench himself out of Tolbert's grasp.

"Hey! _HEY! _Stop it!"

"Let me go, Tolbert, let me go!"

"What're you doin', Bud?" Tolbert demanded.

"I don't wanna live anymore!"

Tolbert tightened his grip, dragging the boy out of the kitchen and to his room. Tolbert closed the door swiftly, Bud bursting into a sob.

"I don't wanna live. I wish — I wish I'd never been born," he cried, hanging his head low.

"Hey, stop that," Tolbert chided softly, placing his hands on Bud's biceps. "What's... why don't ya wanna live, Buddy?"

"People — people've been sendin' me messages. They want me dead, Tol, they want me _dead. _I don't even know these people!"

Tolbert realized that Bud must've finally gotten back on social media. He pulled him into a tight hug, letting the boy cry into his shoulder. Tolbert held him close, refusing to let go. Sobs wracked Bud's body, the boy clinging tightly to Tolbert.

"I wanna die, Tol," he sobbed, his hands clenching Tolbert's shirt.

"Hey, shh... shh, it's okay, baby," Tolbert cooed, rubbing Bud's back with one hand. "I don't want you t' die. I want you here with me, Buddy. I need you n I love you."

"N-o, you don't," Bud tried to get out of the embrace. "I — I sh-sh—shot you!"

"Listen t' me. Listen, okay?" Bud nodded. "I love you very much. I don't care what the idiots on the internet says, I want you here with me. I want ya livin' n breathin', Bud. I need you, Buddy. I really do. So does Mama n Poppy n the rest of our crazy family. We need you and we love you, baby. Don't listen t' them idiots."

"I wanna die," he whimpered. "Let me die, Tolbert."

"Absolutely not," Tolbert refused. "Let's... let's sit down on the bed, 'kay? We'll talk."

"Mkay."

Tolbert led Bud to his bed, taking off his shirt before getting in bed. He laid on his side and faced Bud, who scooted close to him, his eyes locking on the wound on Tolbert's chest.

"I wish I was never born," he whispered.

"Quit talkin' like that," Tolbert chided softly.

"It's true, Tol. I jus' wanna die n I wish I was never born. None of this woulda happened if I wa'n't born. If... if it wasn't fer me, there might be another person... another son more worthy of Poppy's name that could make y'all proud. Someone who wouldn't shoot you, or — or have somethin' wrong with his head, or just sit around and wish he would die."

Tolbert gently placed a hand on Bud's face. Bud's eyes flicked up and met Tolbert's, his eyes glistening with tears.

"I jus' wanna die, Tolbert," Bud wailed, throwing his arms around his older brother. Tolbert wrapped his arms around Bud, letting the boy nuzzle the crook of his neck and cry. "I wanna die."

"I'm — God, Buddy, I can't lose you. Ya hear me? I can't lose you. Not now. I love ya so much, baby. I want ya t' live. I want ya t' live t' be old n grey, t' be able t' say you did whatever you wanted t' do in life. I want ya t' grow up n find ya a pretty girl t' get married to n have a family if ya want. I want you t' be happy, and I'm tellin' ya, Bud, dyin' ain't gonna make ya happy."

"Yeah, it would," he argued meekly. "I wouldn't be mis'rable no more."

"Bud, _I_ _promise you, _it's gonna get better. I love ya, baby. I need ya in my life."

"I love ya too, Tol... I just don't wanna live no more. All I wanna do is die. I don't wanna fight no more."

"Hey, yer just havin' a bad day. We'll delete all yer social media accounts 'til this blows over n we'll make ya some new ones. How's that sound?"

"A'ight, I reckon," Bud spoke in a hushed whisper.

"I understand how ya feel, though. I can understand it. Ya don't know the things I've thought about doin' before... came close a few times b'fore I got diagnosed. Came close not too long 'go, too. So I understand how ya feel, Bud. I really do."

"I just don't wanna live."

"I know. But... let's try this, okay? If this don't work, we'll try somethin' else, I promise. I'm always gonna be here for ya, Buddy. You start thinkin' like this or feelin' this way, you call me or just show up. I don't care. But don't ya dare do anythin' that'll bring harm t' you."

"Okay." He paused for a second. "Will you do the same?"

"Yeah, reckon I will if ya want me to."

"Yeah," he nodded slightly. "I wanna help ya like ya help me. Can't do that if I don't know when somethin's wrong."

Tolbert breathed a laugh.

"That's a good point, baby. Why don't ya try t' get some sleep now, hm? We got a long day 'head of us t'morrow."

—

On the fifth day of the trial, Bud didn't want to go to the courthouse. He knew that he would be called to the stand, and he didn't want to be called to the stand. Not to mention, he'd run out of contacts again and had to wear his glasses.

"You're gonna be fine, kid," Tolbert assured him as they exited the house. Tolbert shut and locked the door behind him, following Bud to his SUV. "Ya sure ya wanna drive?"

"Yeah," Bud nodded. "I wanna — I wanna drive t'day."

"Okay. I won't stop ya."

—

Bud swallowed thickly as he took his seat, watching Perry as he stood up and approached the stand.

"For the record, state your name, please."

"Randolph McCoy, Junior."

"Do you mind if I call you Bud?"

"No."

"Relax, Bud. I just need t' ask you a few questions."

Bud nodded and anxiously started picking at his nails, watching Perry as he paced the floor.

"Do you take Symbyax?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

"Why?" Perry pressed. Bud could see the smirk on Miss Barker's face.

"It's for my depression. It was the only type of medication that would work on me," Bud replied honestly, his face turning red. "I'm not very proud of it n try t' keep it quiet."

He could feel Tolbert's gaze on him. His eyes flicked toward him, as he'd opted to sit right behind Bud's seat at the table, and his eyes met his.

"Have you ever been suicidal?"

Bud swallowed thickly.

"...Yeah. That's — that's more recently, though."

Perry looked surprised at that.

"I—I mean, I was when I was first diagnosed, an' when they tried all them other medicines, but up 'til a couple days ago, I ain't been suicidal in over a year," Bud amended, trying to make it better.

"What happened with that?"

"Nothin'."

"Bud... What happened on November third?"

Bud took a shaky breath and closed his eyes.

"Poppy, Jim, Calvin, n Pharmer had gone t' West Virginia. I... I think it was up north, close t' Wheeling, 'cause they were gone most of the day. While I was out in McCarr runnin' a few errands, Mama took the girls t' Pikeville. I got home n found I was alone, but I didn't think nothin' of it. I get left home alone all the time.

"I went upstairs t' my room, set down the contact lenses that I'd picked up n took the prescription to the bathroom. While the sink was on... the door slammed open downstairs. It sounded like the police were gonna raid the house or somethin', so I shut off the water n went t' the banister. I looked over an' there was a man there, an' he had what looked like a double-barrel shotgun. I got scared n knew I couldn't call nobody. He'd hear me if I did. So I texted Tolbert."

Bud stopped talking and closed his eyes for a second.

"The texts didn't deliver at first, so I went t' Mama n Poppy's room an' got the pistol. It was only there in case someone ever broke in. I loaded it and heard somethin' crash at the bottom of the stairs. I thought maybe he'd come up while I was loadin' the pistol and — and I went n looked in the rooms.

"I made it t' mine when I heard someone behind me. I swear, I thought they were close to the banister, that was where it sounded like they were. So I spun around an' shot at the wall. Tolbert was there instead, clutchin' his chest and lookin' at me with wide eyes. I caught him when he stumbled, lowered him t' the floor, an' went an' got somethin' t' put pressure on the wound."

Bud was trying his hardest not to cry. He bit on his lip, his gaze focused on his hands.

"What happened then, Bud?" Perry inquired.

"I went back an' put pressure on it. Kept 'pologizin' n that idiot tried t' tell me that it was okay; that he was okay. But he was losin' _so much blood. _I — I got real scared an' called 911. Went back n he called me a stupid idiot. I heard it but acted like I didn't. I jus'... cradled him in my arms and applied pressure again. Tol was losin' so much blood.

"When... when the police got there, Tolbert had this weird glaze over his eyes. They told me t' Kay him on the floor n I did, thinkin' they'd help him, y'know? But... but they made me get up against the wall n arrested me. When I asked why they were arrestin' me instead of helpin' him, they didn't answer. I let 'em drag me t' the stairs before lookin' back. That was when Tolbert went unconscious.

"I screamed. I screamed real loud n tried t' tell 'em he was bleedin' out, but they jus' told me t' shut up n go downstairs with 'em. No one was there when we left the house. Not an ambulance, not another police officer, no one. No one except maybe the man that broke in. The motorcycle out front had t' belong t' him 'cause none of us like ridin' 'em. But I swear, Perry, no one was there when we left."

"Did they tell you why they arrested you?"

"No," Bud shook his head. "I didn't even know what I was bein' charged with 'til the man who booked me went n asked."

"So you had no idea they were chargin' you with attempted murder?"

"No."

"Bud, did you intentionally shoot Tolbert?"

"No, I didn't."

"No further questions, Your Honor."

"Cross-examine, Miss Barker?" Judge Wagner looked in her direction.

"Yes, Your Honor."

She stood and rounded the table. Bud could feel his heart racing in his chest and knew that it wouldn't take much to send him into a panic attack, but he sincerely hoped he could make it to the end of the day without having one. He didn't want to have a panic attack in front of everyone that was in the courtroom. But if one started, it was like he was alone and had no way to breathe or calm down.

"Bud... that was your name, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Bud, there's more to it than that, isn't there? Symbyax isn't a medication that's usually given to teenagers. Your brother found it and tried to take it away from you, didn't he?" she accused.

"No!" Bud exclaimed. "It's — it's my prescription."

His chest was starting to get tight. _Nonono, _he couldn't have a panic attack now.

"There was no man, Bud. It's somethin' you've made up t' get by with attempted murder."

"Objection! That's speculation!" Perry cried out.

"Sustained. Move on, please," Judge Wagner drawled.

"Now... you say the police never told you what they were charging you with and that they had left your brother there alone. Why?"

"'Cause it's the truth."

"I highly doubt that. Did you take Symbyax that day?"

"One that mornin'. Jus' like I'm s'pposed to."

Tolbert, from where he sat, knew what was going on with Bud. He leaned forward and tapped Perry's shoulder.

"Ya gotta get him off that stand. He's gettin' ready t' have a panic attack," he whispered in the man's ear.

"Tolbert, there's nothin' I can do until she says she's done questionin' him."

"The officers returned some time later and searched your room. They found a learner's permit but no driver's license. Can you explain that?"

Bud couldn't breathe.

"I can't breathe," he mumbled. "I can't breathe!"

"Oh, stop fakin' and answer the question!" She slammed her hands down on the banister in front of Bud.

Bud's breathing was swift and irregular. He couldn't draw in a breath and it scared him. His chest was tight and the room was starting to spin and blur. He was going to die.

"I can't breathe!" He brought one hand up and tugged at his shirt, pulling it away from his neck. "Oh God, I can't — I can't breathe!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could barely make out Tolbert smacking Perry's shoulder. Perry nodded and stood up. He said something that Bud didn't comprehend, as Bud was too focused on his inability to breathe to really notice anything else.

Bud was going to die. He didn't _want _to die. A sob tore from his throat while he continued pulling at his shirt, trying to take in a breath. He could hear exclamations and gasps but didn't fully comprehend anything until someone placed a hand on his arm. He whipped toward them, finding Tolbert.

"C'mere," he instructed gently. Bud did as he was told, stumbling into his brother's arms. Tolbert grunted and managed to turn Bud away from the people who were watching, lowering both of them to the floor. "Hey, ya know who I am?"

Bud nodded.

"Tol, I can't breathe! 'M gonna die, I don't wanna die!"

"Hey, hey, you're okay. It's gonna be okay. Here, let's get the top few buttons undone. See if that helps ya any." Tolbert kept his voice soft and steady, unbuttoning the top three buttons of Bud's shirt. "Shh, honey, you're alright."

Tolbert wrapped his arms around him, ignoring the way the boy fought against him. It was always like that; Bud would fight for a minute or two and then calm down, which led to him being able to catch his breath after a few minutes.

Bud still resisted, shoving Tolbert while he tried to get out of his grip. His head fell against Tolbert's shoulder, another sob tearing from his throat.

"'M gonna die!"

"Yer not gonna die," Tolbert murmured softly.

"I am. 'M gonna — 'm gonna die, Tol'ert! I don' wanna die!"

"You're alright, I promise ya ain't gonna die. You're okay, honey, breathe for me. Can ya do that? Take a breath, honey, you're okay," Tolbert cooed, pulling his fingers through Bud's hair.

They sat there a few minutes, Bud slowly calming down. He whined quietly, bringing one hand up and rubbing his chest.

"M' chest burns," he mumbled breathlessly.

"No wonder, baby. You're okay, I promise you're okay," Tolbert assured him, planting a kiss on his forehead. "Y' okay, darlin'?"

"I... I think so," Bud nodded slightly. "Oh God, I just ruined our whole case, didn't I?"

"No. You can't help it. Panic attacks just happen, Bud. You're alright, ev'rythin's alright. Ya can get back up there if ya think ya can."

"Y-yeah. I can do it. I'm fine. It just... it was too much," he whispered.

"I know. Get up there n tell the truth. That's all ya gotta do, no matter if she believes ya or not."

Bud nodded. Tolbert stood and helped the boy to his feet, patting his shoulder before returning to his seat. Bud took the stand again and immediately apologized.

"It's alright, Bud," Judge Wagner smiled at the boy. "You jus' answer the question."

"...What was it?"

"Mr. Johnson, read back the question, please."

"They found a learner's permit but no driver's license. Can you explain that?" Mr. Johnson read back what had been asked.

"Yeah. I keep my license in my wallet; my wallet was in my back pocket when that happened."

"That doesn't explain the learner's permit," Miss Barker sighed exasperatedly.

"I took it out the day I got my license. I got my license on my sixteenth birthday."

"When was that?"

"October thirtieth."

"And ya just left the learner's permit on the dresser?"

"Yes. I don't need it no more, so I took it out. I just left it there 'cause there was nothin' else I could really do with it."

"Why did you shoot your brother?"

"I didn't mean to. It was all an accident, a _terrible _freak accident. I thought he was by the banister, I really did. I shot t' scare, not t' harm."

"Is it possible that you just missed your aim?"

"No," Bud shook his head. "I'm a sharpshooter; I don't miss my aim. I aimed at the wall and shot it. I knew what I was shootin' at."

"So... what you're sayin' is you never miss?"

"Yeah."

"It's possible that you just missed your aim. Why wouldn't ya shoot at him if ya thought it was the man that broke in?"

"B'cause I don't wanna kill anybody!" he exploded. "I couldn't live with myself if I killed anyone, even if it was jus' t' save my own life. I couldn't kill anybody."

Miss Barker looked stunned at the sudden outburst.

"Why can't you admit ya did it?"

"'Cause I accidentally shot Tolbert. I didn't mean ta do it. If I'd meant t' do it, I'd gladly admit I did. But _I didn't. _I never meant t' hurt anybody, really, I didn't. Figured Poppy wouldn't've cared too much 'bout a hole in the wall once he learned why it was there. That's all I intended t' do from the start — shoot t' scare."

"No further questions," Miss Barker stated irritably, turning and returning to her seat.

"Y' can step down now, Bud."

—

Bud's anxiety was rising. He had Tolbert sitting behind him, and he gave the boy's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before the jury returned to the courtroom. They'd been out for about three and a half hours to make their decision, and now they had to hear the verdict. Bud didn't want to hear the verdict; the verdict was the thing that Bud feared the most.

"Well, have you reached a verdict?" Judge Wagner queried, looking toward the jury.

"We have, Your Honor," an older man replied as he stood up.

Bud grimaced and lowered his head. He knew what it was going to be; he was going to go to prison. He felt Perry gently nudge him and looked up, meeting the man's eyes. He gave the boy a small, reassuring smile.

"We find the defendant not guilty as charged."

The case was declared closed and Bud looked at Perry, who remarked, "I told ya we'd win."

—

That evening, at Ran'l and Sally's, Bud knew he had a lot of questions to answer. And he knew exactly which ones his parents would start with. So while he and Tolbert sat in his room, talking while Tolbert sharpened one of Bud's knives, Ran'l and Sally knocked on the open door.

"Howdy," Bud grinned. "I've been expectin' ya."

"Ain't no way," Ran'l scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes.

"Oh, but there is. I know Tolbert didn't tell y'all what I did the other night. Tolbert won't say nothin' if I ask him not ta."

"Alright. Ya know why we're here. Spill it."

Bud scooted over to the middle, allowing Sally to sit on one side of him while Ran'l rounded the bed and sat on the other.

"It was jus' a bad night. I got on social media again n read some of the comments... checked my messages, too. People I don't even know were tellin' me they wished I'd die an' that they hope that the same thing that happened t' Tol happens t' me... It was — I don't know, I just wanted t' die. I still do, but I'm not gonna do nothin'."

"Why d'ya wanna die, baby?" Sally asked quietly.

"I dunno, Mama," he shook his head. "I jus' do. Reckon it's where it's real bad again. I — I usually don't wanna die."

Sally didn't say anything. She planted a kiss on his cheek, pulling her fingers through her son's thick, curly hair.

"If it makes any diff'rence, I don't want ya t' die, baby."

"I know. I'll get out of it soon enough. It don't happen very often... it's jus' never been so bad that I actually intended t' do it."

Much to Bud's surprise, Ran'l pulled him against his side, letting the boy lay his head on his shoulder.

"I hope ya never do, son," he murmured, giving Bud's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"I hope I don't either. I don't think like that very often, and that's usually all it is — thoughts. Thoughts 'bout dyin' and what it might feel like. How it might affect y'all an' then 'gain, it might not affect ya at all. That's the thought that always bothers me the most."

"Of course it would. We all love ya very much, Bud. We don't want ya leavin' us."

Tolbert didn't say anything; he just reached forward and took hold of Bud's hand, rubbing the back of his palm with the pad of his thumb.

"But y' ain't gotta worry. I promised Tol I'd talk t' him when I feel that way."

"Good. I'm glad ya trust someone, Bud," Sally smiled softly, rubbing her son's shoulder. "An' I'm glad ya can come home again. The girls ain't had no one t' bicker with an' it's nearly drove 'em crazy."

"Cal n Pharmer are still here!"

"'Parently they don't bicker like you do," Ran'l piped up. "Or that's the excuse the girls gave me."

Bud threw his head back and laughed.

"Yer kiddin' me!"

"I'm not," Ran'l chuckled.

"Oh Lord, that's good. I'll be sure t' let Cal n Pharmer know they 'parently don't bicker right."

—

**_June 2018_**

"Hey, Tol," Bud forced a smile as he got out of his vehicle, closing the door.

"Hey, darlin'. Whatcha doin' here?" Tolbert asked as he dragged what looked like a chest into the shed.

"Came t' see ya," he shrugged innocently.

"There a reason for it?" Tolbert stood upright, revealing the scar on his chest. Bud's eyes snapped down to the cement and he tugged on the hem of his shirt.

"No. Jus' wanna see ya."

"Okay. Gimme a minute an' I'll be in the house. Ya can go on in."

Bud nodded and went inside. He hated seeing the scar; it was nothing but a reminder of what he'd done to Tolbert. He didn't think it was right that Tolbert had to live with a scar from a bullet wound and a surgery incision because of him. If anyone should have to live with it, it should be Bud.

He sat down on the couch and kept his eyes glued to the floor. Tolbert had told him time and time again that it wasn't his fault; that no one was really at fault with the freak accident that had occurred. He said it was something that had gone down so fast that no one was at fault.

Bud didn't believe that. He believed that he was fully at fault for what had happened. He never should have texted Tolbert. If he hadn't texted him, Tolbert wouldn't have shown up, and it wouldn't have turned into an attempted murder case. Bud wouldn't've gone to jail, Tolbert wouldn't have fought for his life, and the family would be the same as it always was.

"My God, Bud! I can hear you thinkin'," Tolbert remarked as he plopped down beside him.

"Won't you shut up," Bud said jokingly, smacking the side of Tolbert's head. "I'm sorry if I'm botherin' ya. Ain't seen ya 'cept when yer workin' an' we hardly ever work the same shift."

"Speakin' of that, I found out you worked triple shifts up 'til Poppy said I could work 'gain."

"Who told you that?" Bud looked at him in surprise.

"Jim. Said he saw ya workin' in the office durin' second shift and figured Poppy made ya do that 'stead of workin' all three at the mill."

"Yeah. Said only way he'd 'gree t' it was if I said I'd work the office second shift."

"What were ya pullin' triple shifts for? I know ya wa'n't paid for it."

"I made a deal wit' Poppy. Said I'd do your work an' mine s' long as he paid ya yer normal wages. Took a few days t' get used t' it, but it was fine."

"You shouldn't be pullin' triple shifts or makin' deals with Poppy."

"Poppy didn't wanna agree t' it," Bud quickly defended Ran'l. "He said he'd pay ya yer normal wages anyways, but — but it was my fault ya couldn't work no more, an' it was my fault we fell behind, so I shoulda been the one pickin' up the slack."

Tolbert sighed heavily.

"I swear, you're gonna be the death of me."

"Hope not."

"Well, I still say ya are. Whatcha wanna do? It's my day off."

"I dunno," Bud shrugged. "Ya wanna tell one of yer scary stories?"

"Sure thing, kid," Tolbert smiled softly. "Sure that's what ya want?"

"Yeah," Bud nodded.

"A'ight. Let's see... It started a long, long time ago..."


	12. The Basics of Love

**_January 1881_**

Bud jerked awake to the bedroom door slamming against the wall. Tolbert came in, carrying what looked like a crate full of his moonshine, and set it on the bedside table before backtracking and closing the door. He took off his boots, coat, hat, and shirt, tossing them all in one corner of the room.

"Tol?"

"Go back t' sleep," he ordered, his voice a little hoarse. It almost sounded like Tolbert had been crying.

"You okay?" Bud propped himself up on his elbows, gazing at his older brother as he sat down on his side of the bed.

"I'm fine, Bud," he snapped. "Go back t' sleep."

Bud flinched and turned to where his back faced Tolbert.

"Night, Tol."

"Night."

Tolbert sighed as he grabbed a bottle and pulled the wooden cork out of the top, taking a swig of the liquid. Maybe he shouldn't've been so harsh with Bud, as the boy was only concerned, but Tolbert was dealing with more than enough at the moment and he didn't want to talk about it. He especially didn't want to talk about it with his sixteen-year-old brother.

He's taken Mary to a dance that evening, and when he was escorting her home, she'd informed him that she didn't want him anymore.

_"Tolbert... I don't want ya t' get mad at me, but I need t' talk t' you 'bout somethin'. Tolbert, I don't want ya anymore. Wait, no, I mean I don't want ta be with ya anymore. Ya jus' got too violent a temper t' be a good man, an' I can't help but wonder if ya'd hurt me eventually. With a temper like that, Tolbert, ya can't be a good husband or a good poppy. I don't — I don't want t' hurt ya, Tolbert, but I jus' can't see past that temper of yours. If we did get married, an' we had chil'ren, what would happen if ya got mad at 'em?"_

Tolbert shook his head. She was right about three things, at the very least. Tolbert wasn't a good man, Tolbert wouldn't make a good husband, and he certainly wouldn't make a good poppy. Tolbert wasn't the type of man cut out for something like that.

_"I jus' can't stand by n let ya hit 'em, Tolbert. They're chil'ren. Discipline is one thing, but wit' your temper, ya'd end up takin' it further than that. I do love ya, Tolbert. I just can't marry ya. Ya do jus' fine keepin' yer temper in check around that brother of yours. Ya don't care what ya say or do 'round anyone else."_

Tolbert supposed she had a good reason for it. He just wished she would have told him sooner if that was how she truly felt. He reached in his pocket, pulling out the ring that he'd bought over in Pikeville. He didn't really have the money to spare on it, but Mary had told him that she'd always hoped to have a ring when she became betrothed. Tolbert slammed it on the bedside table, accidentally waking Bud a second time.

"Tol?" he mumbled groggily, turning to where he faced him.

"Sorry, Buddy. Go back t' sleep," he said much softer than he had the first few times he'd done it.

"What's wrong, Tol?"

Tolbert sighed and looked down at him.

"Bud, when ya find a pretty girl n she agrees t' court ya, y' might wanna make sure she thinks yer a good man n she wants t' marry ya. 'Specially might wanna do that 'fore ya let her get real close n ya fall in love with 'er."

"...Tolbert?" Bud sat up his brows pinched together in concern. "Tolbert, what're ya talkin' 'bout?"

"Mary don't want me no more."

Bud blinked in surprise, his brows raising.

"Don't look at me like that," Tolbert commanded shakily.

"S-sorry. What... what all did she say t' ya?"

"She said she didn't want me anymore. That she didn't wanna be with me anymore. Said I got too violent a temper t' be a good man, a good husband, or a good poppy. She said she can't see past it. Said I'd end up hurtin' the chil'ren if we got married n had 'em. Then she said I do real good at keepin' my temper in check 'round you, but I don't care what I say or do 'round anyone else."

"Oh, Tolbert," Bud breathed. Bud pulled his older brother into a tight embrace, the empty bottle in Tolbert's hand dropping to the floor. "Tolbert, oh God, I'm so sorry."

Bud knew how hard it was for Tolbert to let Mary get so close to him, he knew how Tolbert had planned to ask Mary to marry him, he knew how Tolbert had spent practically every dime he had on that ring for her.

"Did... did you ask her?"

"No," Tolbert mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. "Didn't have the chance to. Now I'm glad I didn't; I woulda jus' humiliated myself."

"Nothin' humiliatin' 'bout showin' someone ya love 'em," Bud pointed out, letting Tolbert lay his head on his shoulder.

"There is when they don't want ya," Tolbert countered. "I'm an idiot for ever thinkin' she might wanna marry me anyways. She's right — I'd be a terr'ble husband n a terr'ble poppy, an-an' I ain't a good man. Not in the least."

"Yes, ya are. Yer a great man, Tolbert. You're absolutely amazin', an' I don't think ya should listen t' her. I think ya'd make a great poppy."

"Yeah, an' you're the only one," Tolbert scoffed.

"Nah. Ya'd make a great poppy. Speakin' of, I didn't know where ya went t'night, s' I told Poppy ya was up at the still."

"Mm... thanks," Tolbert mumbled against Bud's shoulder. "Ev'ryone should have a brother like ya, Bud McCoy."

"Oh God, no," Bud shook his head. "No one needs someone like me."

Tolbert sat up, his brows furrowing while he gazed at Bud.

"Pardon?"

"Nothin', Tol," he sighed tiredly. "Let's jus' get some sleep."

"A'ight," Tolbert conceded. He wouldn't push Bud to talk about it if he didn't want to, but that didn't mean he wouldn't ask about it tomorrow. All Bud had to do was tell him he didn't want to talk about it, or the way Bud usually did something like that was by telling Tolbert he could shut up and mind his own business.

Bud ended up lying on his side facing Tolbert, who gave the boy a tight-lipped smile.

"Night, Buddy."

"Nigh', Tol," Bud murmured, already half-asleep. "I love ya."

"Love ya too, Bud."

—

Tolbert had insisted that Bud went hunting with him. Bud had agreed — he loved going out in the mountains for a while — and had bid their mother goodbye before rushing out to catch up with Tolbert.

Now, leaned against an oak tree, the two brothers stood in silence. Tolbert was debating on breaking it; Bud's words the night before had him worried and he wanted to find out what he meant by it. So after debating with himself for a moment, he decided to speak up.

"Bud... what'd ya mean by no one needs someone like ya?"

Bud looked over at Tolbert and sighed. He'd hoped that Tolbert would forget about it, but he should've known that he wouldn't. Tolbert had the ability to remember the things he wanted to remember most of the time (the only exceptions being when he's half-asleep and/or when he's extremely drunk) and he never let the matter go once he heard something.

"Y'know what I did in November. When — when ya had the mind t' kill Jonce? Well... not too long after that, I got up in the middle of the night t' get some water. Heard Poppy tell Mama that I ain't nothin' but a dis'pointment an' that I couldn't be no son of his if I'm savin' Johnse Hatfield's hide. I know they think I don't know he said it. Ev'ry time I see him, it's all I can think about. That Poppy's dis'pointed in me n he wishes he never woulda gave me his name."

"Oh, Buddy, why didn't ya tell me?"

"Ain't no reason to. Not like we can do nothin' 'bout it," he sniffled, forcing his tears back.

"That ain't the point," Tolbert rolled his eyes.

"I know. It's jus'... after that, it jus' seems like no one really wants me 'round anymore. Heck, Tol, there's times I convince myself that you don't even love me anymore. I know Pharmer n Cal n Jim are all still mad at me. So's Poppy. It just... it feels like no one loves me anymore, Tol. No one really talks t' me anymore but you n Mama, an' I know I shouldn't feel the way I do, but I can't help it. I've tried t' make it stop; t' make it go 'way, but it won't. I don't know why it won't," he confessed, wiping at his eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be botherin' you. Ya've got 'nough t' deal with without listenin' t' my problems."

"Ya ain't botherin' me. I wanna know all this. I'd rather have ya tell me all this than you keep it t' yerself 'til ya end up convincin' yourself that we all hate ya. We don't, Bud. I was mad at ya for a day or two after that, but I never stopped lovin' ya. Jus' 'cause yer mad at someone don't mean ya don't love 'em, honey. We love ya. We love ya very much, but I don't think any of 'em can love ya as much as I do."

Bud looked up at Tolbert and sighed heavily. He didn't know how he could express that he didn't want Tolbert to worry about him; that he wanted Tolbert to focus on his own situation without giving Bud a second thought. He shouldn't worry about Bud.

"C'mon, let's go on up the mountain a bit. Maybe we'll have better luck up there."

Bud nodded, slinging his rifle over his shoulder while following Tolbert. They reached a narrow path and Bud grimaced. He pushed on, though, and didn't say a word about it. If Tolbert wanted to go on up the mountain, Bud would go with him. That was just the way it worked.

They trekked up the path in silence. Leaves crunched beneath their boots and small piles of snow were still clinging to the mountainside, but they paid it no mind. Overall, it was a nice day for the middle of January.

Bud bit down on his lip, carefully stepping over a fallen tree limb. He allowed his eyes to stay focused on the ground, deciding that would probably be best.

"You not gonna say anythin'?" Tolbert asked.

"Huh?" Bud lifted his head swiftly, not seeing the fair-sized rock in the middle of the path. He tripped, his ankle twisting. He gasped and lost his balance, letting out a shriek before toppling over the side of the path, rolling down the hill. He heard Tolbert shout, but Bud couldn't answer. He grunted when he hit a tree at the bottom of the hill, groaning as he shifted onto his back.

He slid the strap off of his shoulder and moved his rifle to where it laid beside him, looking back toward the hill when he heard Tolbert shout again.

"_BUD!_"

He grimaced when he saw Tolbert making his way down the hill, but he didn't say anything.

"Oh my God, Bud!" Tolbert fell to his knees beside the boy. "Are ya a'ight?"

"Fine, fine," Bud waved him off, forcing himself to sit up. "Jus' hurts a bit is all."

"What happened?" Tolbert queried, his blue eyes shining with concern.

"I tripped over a stupid rock," Bud grumbled. "Twisted m' ankle n lost my balance. I'm fine."

"Let me see it."

"Tol—"

"It'll make me feel better if ya jus' let me look at yer ankle, Buddy. There's a chance ya did more than twist it, an' I'd hate ya t' walk around on a broken ankle."

"Fine," Bud groaned, looking down at the ground. He winced when Tolbert pulled his boot off and shoved his pant leg up, but he didn't utter a word.

Tolbert examined Bud's ankle, gently rubbing his thumb across it. Bud yelped and smacked at Tolbert, but Tolbert paid no mind to him. He was used to Bud smacking at him when he was checking a wound or injury the boy had acquired.

"Yeah, you ain't walkin' on that," Tolbert mumbled.

"_Tolbert—_"

"Don't argue with me," Tolbert's eyes snapped up and met his. "How bad's it hurt, Bud?"

"Hurts real bad," he admitted, his voice rising in pitch. "Oh my God, it hurts real bad, Tol."

Tolbert let the boy put his boot back on before standing and grabbing Bud's rifle. He slid the strap over his shoulder and bent down, letting Bud wrap an arm around his neck. He lifted him and stood, Bud hiding his face by tucking his head in the crook of Tolbert's neck.

"I'm real sorry," Bud muttered. "Shoulda paid 'tention."

"Hey, it happens," Tolbert tried to assure him. "Ain't no need t' be embarrassed. It's jus' me."

"That ain't the point," Bud grumbled, clenching Tolbert's shirt in his hand. "If I woulda paid 'tention, ya wouldn't be carryin' me like I'm a baby."

"The only reason I ain't lettin' ya walk is 'cause it felt like it's broke. Did it crack?"

"Sounded that way. I thought I mighta snapped a stick when I tried t' catch my balance," Bud shrugged lightly. Tolbert hummed. "Sorry."

"Quit 'pologizin'," Tolbert scolded softly. "It's alright. I promise ya, Bud, if I didn't wanna carry you back home, ya'd be walkin'."

"I know."

"Good. Glad ya know."

"Tolbert."

"Hm?"

"Shut up."

—

Ran'l had been outside when the boys returned. He raised a brow, but he didn't say anything. He would find out what had happened from Sally later since he and his youngest son weren't getting along as well as they usually did.

Tolbert carried Bud inside after acknowledging their father, meeting their mother's eyes the second he entered the cabin.

"What happened?" she demanded, approaching the boys while dusting her hands on her apron.

"Bud tripped n hurt himself. I think he's broke his ankle, Mama," Tolbert told her in a hushed voice. "It didn't feel right."

"Put him t' bed. I'll be up in a minute t' check it."

"Thank ya, Mama," Tolbert breathed, moving toward the staircase.

He rushed up to the room he shared with Bud, placing the boy on the bed before moving and carefully pulling his boots off. He winced when he saw the black and blue color on Bud's left ankle, but he didn't say anything. Bud had dozed off on the journey back, and he wouldn't wake him just yet.

—

Sally confirmed Tolbert's suspicions while the boy was sleeping, and had bandaged his ankle. After giving Tolbert the strict order to keep Bud in bed, she returned downstairs.

When Bud awoke that evening, Tolbert was already sleeping. And while Bud wasn't hungry, he was thirsty, so he got up to go downstairs and fetch something to drink. He limped terribly, but he pressed on. He was fine; he'd just twisted his ankle and it was trying to give him problems.

He slowly made his way downstairs, wincing and tightly holding to the banister as he descended. His ankle seemed to be sending waves of pain through his leg, but he didn't care. Bud carefully stepped down once he'd made it to the bottom, and ran his hand along the wall until he reached the kitchen, latching on to the counter and letting out a pained, shaky breath.

He grabbed a glass and filled it with water, leaning against the counter while he sipped it. He lifted his left foot off of the floor and hummed in displeasure, willing the pain away.

"Thought yer ankle was broke."

Bud jumped, nearly losing his grip on the glass.

"Broke? Tol said it might be, but he didn't say that it was."

Ran'l hummed. He got closer to Bud, and Bud could smell the moonshine. Ran'l was drunk. Bud tried to suppress a grimace; he _hated_ it when his father was drunk. Ran'l could either be overly emotional, or he could be really mean. And judging by the way he looked right now, tonight he was really mean.

"Ya know, really, Bud, I expected more from ya. I gave ya my name, after all, an' ya ain't done nothin' but disappoint me since ya been alive."

Bud flinched at the words and hung his head.

"I'm real sorry, Poppy. I-I try m' best t' make ya proud," Bud whispered, forcing back the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes.

"An' even yer best ain't good enough," Ran'l scoffed. "Were ya doin' yer best t' make me proud when ya saved Jonce Hatfield's hide?"

"Poppy, I didn't know she was gonna—"

"She ain't part of this fam'ly no more! Ya shouldn't even go n see her, much less talk ta her! She brought shame on this fam'ly, Bud!"

"I'm sorry, I jus' didn't—"

"Shut up!" Ran'l slapped Bud, who flinched from the harsh impact. He fell silent and kept his eyes fixated on the floor, taking deep, shaky breaths through his nostrils while he tried to calm his racing heart. "Ya've never made me proud, Bud."

"I know," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

"I don't even love ya, Bud. Ya ain't been nothin' but a problem ever since ya was born, ya know that? Yer a shame t' the family, a disgrace! Ya ain't ever done nothin' ta make any of us proud, not even yer Mama or Tolbert. Sometimes I wonder why any of 'em loves ya, Bud. Ya ain't good for nothin'. Maybe that's why I don't love ya."

Bud felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Ran'l didn't love him anymore. Before he'd saved Johnse's hide, Ran'l had loved him unconditionally. And sure, Bud knew his father was drunk, but weren't people honest when they were drunk?

"Heck, Bud, I wonder why I let ya stay here n keep my name! Ya ain't done nothin' but bring shame t' it. Maybe you was nothin' but a mistake. Maybe I made it givin' ya my name, I don't know, but yer a _mistake, _Randolph McCoy, Junior. Ya understandin' me?"

"Yes, sir," Bud forced the words out, trying to hide the fact that he wanted to cry.

"Ya cryin', Bud? Ya gonna sit here n cry like a little baby like ya always do? Are ya s' weak that ya can't take what I say t' ya, Bud? Huh?"

"No, sir. 'M not weak."

"Yeah, ya are. Yer s' weak I wonder if yer really my son. No son of mine is as weak as you are, Bud. Ya can't be my son; yer too weak, too soft. Ya ain't no son of mine, Bud."

Bud hung his head, his chin touching his chest while he fought back tears. He wouldn't cry, he would _not _cry. He wasn't weak; he wasn't too soft. He had been terrified that his older brothers would end up getting themselves killed if they'd went through with their plan, so he had told the one person he knew could stop them.

"Matter of fact, Bud," Ran'l spoke up again, pulling the boy out of his thoughts, "I hate ya. I hate ya almost as much as I hate the Hatfields. Now ya best git yer hide back up t' bed, ya understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

Bud hurried toward the stairs, ignoring the pain it caused him. He climbed them and slipped inside the room he shared with Tolbert, finding his brother lighting a lamp.

"Where in the world have ya been?!" Tolbert demanded.

Bud involuntarily flinched.

"I—I jus' wanted t' get some water," he responded quietly, lowering his head so Tolbert couldn't see the tears that slipped onto his face. "I'm sorry."

"Bud, darlin', ya can't be walkin' on your ankle right now. It's broken. Ya need t' get back in bed, okay?"

"Okay."

Bud would do as he was told. It was bad enough that Ran'l hated him, and he was pretty sure everyone else did too. But Tolbert was nice to him, as was his mother and Alifair, and he would do anything they asked him to do.

Heck, Bud was pretty sure even Roseanna didn't love him.

Bud just wasn't a lovable person, apparently. His parents didn't love him or want him, and his siblings were the same way. He knew that Perry didn't like him anymore — the man gave Bud a look that could kill every time he saw him. He never spoke a kind word to Bud anymore, and he knew that Ran'l heard it. He was always _right there _when it happened.

Bud shook his head and got into bed, turning to where his back faced Tolbert. Tolbert hadn't done anything wrong, but Bud certainly wouldn't make it harder for them both by laying on his side facing him and accidentally curling up beside him while he slept.

"Bud? You alright?"

Bud didn't say anything. Maybe he could pass it off like he'd been really tired and had already fallen asleep. So he closed his eyes and evened out his breathing, giving the impression that he was asleep.

"Well, if ya ain't asleep, I love ya, Buddy," Tolbert told him before bending down and pressing a kiss to his temple. Tolbert laid down and turned to where his back faced Bud, figuring the boy was just in a mood.

Bud waited until he heard Tolbert snore to cry as silently as he possibly could. Ran'l didn't love him. Bud should have expected that, but he hadn't, and now he was in a mess of trouble again.

And what about the rest of the family? They hated him too, didn't they? Bud wasn't sure what he could do anymore. He supposed he would have to figure it out in the morning.

—

Tolbert knew there was something wrong with Bud. He only knew that because the boy hadn't uttered a single word the entire morning, and if Bud was alright, he would have fought against the order to stay in bed. Tolbert couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. He'd been fine the day before, had laughed and joked with Tolbert like he didn't have a care in the world. It was almost as if Bud was a completely different person.

So he voiced his concern to Sally, who agreed to go upstairs and see what was troubling the boy.

When she entered the room, the first thing she noticed was that he had intentionally turned away from Tolbert's side of the bed, and let his left arm hang limply over the side of it, his hand laying on the floor. His eyes were unfocused, his face red and splotchy, as though he'd been crying.

She knew in an instant that Tolbert was right. Something was wrong with her son and it wasn't the fact that he was being cooped up in the house until his ankle healed.

"Bud?"

Bud gasped and jerked, propping himself up with his elbow. He let out a breath of relief when he realized it was only Sally, and turned onto his back. He didn't want to see her; she didn't love him as he did her, so why would he want to look at her and be reminded of it?

"Honey, what's wrong wit'cha?" Sally questioned as she sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling her fingers through her son's thick locks of honey-brown hair.

"Stop, Mama," he mumbled, turning onto his side.

It hurt Sally that he'd turned away, but she knew her son well. He wouldn't do it without just cause, and she was determined to figure out what was bothering him so badly.

"A'ight, baby, I'll stop. Wanna tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothin'."

"It's somethin', Bud. Ya didn't fight with Tolbert when he told ya you'd be stayin' in this bed for a while."

"Ain't no sense t' fight. Won't do me no good."

"That's never made a diff'rence t' you b'fore, honey. What's wrong?"

"Nothin', Mama," he said a little forcefully. "Will ya please leave me alone?"

"Yeah, Buddy. I'll leave ya alone now."

—

Tolbert sighed as he entered the room that evening, his eyes flicking over his brother's frame. He still hadn't figured out what was wrong with him and had been told by Sally that Bud had asked her to leave him alone when she tried to talk to him. So Tolbert decided to take it upon himself to coax whatever it was out of him.

"Hey, Buddy. Ya feelin' okay?"

"I feel fine," he huffed.

"What's wrong, Bud?"

"Nothin's wrong!" Bud exclaimed.

"Bud, somethin's botherin' ya. What is it?"

"Don't worry about it. I don't wanna talk 'bout it n I don't need you tryin' t' fix everything. Ya can't fix this, Tolbert, so just shut up."

Tolbert sighed heavily and got in bed, shifting to where he faced the boy's back.

"I love ya, Bud," Tolbert murmured.

Bud didn't respond. It was a blatant lie, why should he reciprocate it? Sure, he loved Tolbert and everyone else unconditionally, but he wouldn't let them lie to him anymore. They hated him, he knew that they hated him. He wasn't going to say something like that when they didn't mean it.

"Bud... ya not love me or somethin'?"

Bud stayed silent, tears welling in his eyes. He loved Tolbert, he truly did, but he couldn't say it anymore. Not when Tolbert didn't really love him.

"I don't know what I did, Bud, but I'm sorry," Tolbert apologized. "I don't mean t' hurt ya. If ya tell me what I did t' ya, we can work this out, Bud."

His breathing hitched as tears escaped onto his face, rolling onto his pillow.

"I love ya."

—

**_February 1881_**

Bud had pushed everyone away from him. He never allowed anyone to touch him anymore, he hardly spoke a word, and he never told anyone that he loved them anymore. It was as though the Bud they all knew and loved had vanished and had been replaced with an empty shell of a person.

So when Sally finally let him go back to doing his chores, Bud was rarely seen around the house. He spent his time doing his work and avoiding the family. But when he was forced to work with Tolbert to fix the fence that surrounded the tobacco field, well, he didn't have a choice when it came to talking.

"You alright?"

"Fine," he grumbled, pounding the nail into the board.

Tolbert, deciding to take a different approach, asked, "Think we'll have a good harvest this year?"

"Maybe."

"Bud, you've gotta talk t' me. Ya've hardly said a word t' me in a month n it's killin' me!"

"Don't, Tolbert," Bud sighed tiredly. "Jus' leave me alone."

"A'ight," Tolbert reluctantly agreed. If that was what Bud wanted, that was what Tolbert would do.

—

That evening, before the sun had set, Bud had come face to face with Ran'l, who was drunk again. He'd never known his father to drink so much but hadn't made a single comment on that while he took a berating and a beating he wouldn't forget.

And after Ran'l went back inside, Bud went to the barn. He hid up in the hayloft, curling up into a ball and crying. He didn't mean to be a shame to the family or his father's name, and he'd tried so hard to make his family proud of him. Yet nothing seemed to work, and Bud knew that every person in his family hated him now.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the moonshine that Tolbert had stored in the hayloft a few days before. It was a single crate filled with bottles, and Bud didn't see how he could make it any worse by trying to numb the pain he felt.

So he grabbed one, taking the wooden cork out of the top of the bottle. He licked his lips and hesitated, swallowing thickly. It wouldn't hurt to try to numb the pain, would it? Everyone hated him anyway; it wasn't like he could make it any worse by drinking a bit of moonshine.

Without so much as a second thought, Bud took a swig of moonshine. His face contorted to a disgusted expression and he coughed a little, but he was fine. He hadn't expected it to taste so bitter. He took another drink and leaned his head back against the wall, exhaling deeply through his nostrils. He _really _hoped this worked.

—

Bud had been up in the hayloft for a while, and was undeniably drunk. He'd drank seven bottles of moonshine, and he still felt the invisible knife in his heart that was twisting each time he met his father and received a berating or each time he didn't tell someone that he loved them.

It hadn't worked the way he hoped it would. Bud got up and stumbled, but he managed to catch his balance before making his way over to the ladder and climbing down it. He staggered out of the barn and into the cabin, where Tolbert, Ran'l, Sally, and Alifair all stared at him in shock.

"Bud...?" Tolbert got up and approached him, gently gripping the boy's biceps. "You drunk?"

"I ain' drunk," Bud slurred, swatting at Tolbert's arms. "Don' touch me."

"Sorry," Tolbert released him from his grip, allowing his hands to fall down by his sides. "Here... let's go upstairs. Ya... ya look kinda tired, darlin'."

"Mkay."

Tolbert carefully grasped Bud's arm, letting the boy lean against him while they walked. He helped the boy get up the stairs, and sighed once they were inside their room.

"Get ready for bed."

"Mmm... Tol'ert?"

"Yeah, it's me," Tolbert kept his voice soft. "Get ready for bed, honey."

Bud's brows furrowed and he looked at his brother strangely before untucking his shirt and pulling it over his head.

"Why y' actin' s' weird?"

"I ain't," Tolbert chuckled. "Yer jus' drunk, darlin'. We gotta getcha int' bed."

"I ain' drunk!" Bud repeated, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.

"Yes, you are. You are _drunk, _Bud. An' ya best have a good reason for it, too."

"Mmph."

Bud got into bed and looked at Tolbert.

"Will y' stay, Tol?"

"Yeah, Buddy. I'll stay."

Tolbert took off his shirt and got into bed, letting his baby brother curl up against him. What he didn't expect was for the boy to burst into tears. Tolbert exhaled deeply through his nostrils while he rubbed the boy's back. It was going to be a _long _evening.

—

Bud dozed off about an hour later, and had tightly wrapped his arms around Tolbert's middle. His legs ended up being thrown over Tolbert's, keeping him there beside him.

"Pharmer!" Tolbert called out when he saw his younger brother walk by the door.

Pharmer backtracked and leaned against the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Hm?"

"I need ya t' do somethin' for me."

"What?" Pharmer raised a brow.

"Go out t' the barn, up in the hayloft. I need ya t' tell me how many empty bottles are up there."

"A'ight. Be back in a minute," he mumbled, walking off.

Tolbert was hoping that Bud hadn't drunk too much; that he'd only drank one or two — three at the most — bottles of moonshine. Bud had never drank moonshine before (Tolbert had forbidden it) and he knew that it wouldn't take much to make Bud drunk the first time he ever drank it.

He gazed down at his brother, observing his childlike features. Bud looked _so young. _Tolbert hadn't really noticed how young his baby brother looked before, and now that he did, he sort of wished the boy wasn't sixteen. He looked more to be around thirteen, and Tolbert would have preferred that. Bud listened to him then, and he wouldn't have dared to even think about touching moonshine.

"Um... Tol, did ya drink any of that 'shine out there?" Pharmer asked as he slipped into the room.

"No, why?"

"Tol... there's seven empty bottles."

Tolbert sighed heavily, running his hand through his ginger curls. He didn't know what he could possibly to dissuade the boy from doing it again, but he was sure that him being sick when he woke up would help with it.

"Why's he drinkin'?"

"I dunno, Pharmer," Tolbert looked up at him. "I dunno anymore. I thought maybe that he was jus' upset over his ankle when it started, y'know? That he was mad he couldn't do anythin' for a while n jus' decided t' take his frustration out on us. But then he snapped at Mama n told her t' leave him alone, n he started gettin' these bruises an' he cries himself t' sleep. He thinks I don't know, but I do. I know he's cryin' himself t' sleep."

"You'll figure it out. He can never stop talkin' t' you for long, Tol. He loves ya too much."

"He's been at it for a month now, Pharmer."

"Jus' give him time. Maybe he'll tell ya when he wakes up."

"Maybe..."

"Well, I'm headin' t' bed. Night, Tolbert."

"Night."

—

Bud was miserable.

He'd woken up about five minutes ago, and had turned away from Tolbert and pulled the blanket over his head. He gagged and squeezed his eyes shut, keeping silent while he swallowed thickly. Tolbert had gotten up and had gone downstairs after dressing. He returned and placed a glass of water on the bedside table.

"Hey, come on," Tolbert murmured, trying to coax the boy out from under the blanket. "Water helps it, I promise. C'mon."

"Don't wanna," Bud moaned miserably.

"I know, but ya want it t' stop?" Tolbert asked.

"Mhm."

"Then ya gotta come out from under the blanket, honey. Sit up for me, there ya go. Here, drink this," Tolbert handed him the glass of water. Bud took it and sipped it. "What're ya drinkin' for, Buddy?"

"I jus' want the pain t' stop," he whispered so softly, Tolbert barely heard him.

"What pain?" Tolbert's brows pinched together in concern. Had Bud gotten hurt and hid it from them?

"Stop it," Bud stated shakily.

"Stop what? I can't stop if I don't know what I'm do—"

"_Stop! _Stop actin' like ya care when ya don't!"

"Bud, what in the world are ya talkin' about?" Tolbert questioned, being sure to keep his voice soft. He was sure Bud still had a headache and he didn't want to make it any worse.

"You don't care about me," Bud chuckled bitterly. "None of ya do! So _stop actin' like ya do, _Tolbert! I'm tired of ya always tellin' me that ya love me n actin' like yer concerned when ya ain't. So stop it! _Stop. It._"

Tolbert felt like Bud had just slapped him as hard as he could. Bud thought he didn't care about him.

"Where did ya get a crazy idea like that?" Tolbert demanded, overcoming his shock.

"It don't matter. It's true anyways," Bud muttered, taking another sip of water. "Don't — don't worry 'bout it, Tolbert."

"Buddy... ya drank seven bottles of moonshine. I'm gonna worry when yer doin' that."

"Nothin' t' worry 'bout, Tolbert. I'm fine."

"Oh yeah," Tolbert drawled sarcastically, "yer totally fine when you're drinkin' seven bottles of moonshine."

Bud took a gulp of water and looked at Tolbert, letting out a shaky breath.

"Bud, I've seen the bruises. I've heard ya cry yerself t' sleep for _a month. _What's goin' on, Buddy?"

Tolbert reached out and placed a hand on Bud's shoulder. Bud flinched, his breath hitching. Tolbert retracted his hand, looking at Bud with concerned eyes.

"Bud?"

"I'm fine, I swear," he rushed, giving Tolbert the empty glass. "I'll be downstairs in a minute."

"A'ight."

—

Bud couldn't sleep that night. So he stayed downstairs once everyone had gone to bed — well, everyone that was in the house. Ran'l had gone to Pikeville for a few days on business and Tolbert had yet to come home.

He didn't mind sitting in silence; it gave him a chance to think. He'd actually talked to Tolbert, but he hadn't told him anything. Bud wasn't going to be stupid enough to do that. He would keep it to himself; it worked out better for him that way.

He looked up when the door opened, finding Tolbert. He knew instantly that he'd drank too much while he was out, and let out a quiet sigh. Nothing good ever happened when Tolbert drank too much.

Bud watched him cross the room, making it to the counter before he acknowledged him.

"C'mere, Bud."

Bud reluctantly did as he was told. He approached his older brother, who swiftly pinned him against the wall, a menacing gleam in his eyes. Bud's heart skipped a beat. He'd never seen Tolbert look the way he did at that moment. It was like the Tolbert he knew and loved was nonexistent and had been replaced with what could only be described as either a demon or an evil spirit.

Bud had the sinking feeling that something bad was about to happen. He didn't care if it happened to him; he was nothing but a problem anyway. He just didn't want anything to happen to Tolbert, whether he be angry and drunk or not.

"Ya think I don't care 'bout ya? That I hate ya?" Tolbert sounded calm. He sounded _too calm _for Bud's liking. His tone of voice didn't match the fury in his eyes at all.

"...Yeah," Bud admitted.

"Well... yer right 'bout that. I hate ya, Bud! Hate ya so much I wish ya were dead!"

Bud flinched. Was he really that terrible? That the one person he loved the most wished he was dead?

Bud let out a surprised yelp when Tolbert pressed a knife against his throat. Tolbert was drunk, he wasn't in his right mind, but Bud wasn't scared. He knew that Tolbert would kill him without a second thought in his current state, but it didn't scare him.

"Maybe I should jus' kill ya now," Tolbert growled. "Ya ain't never done nothin' fer this fam'ly anyways. S' why should I believe for one second that ya'd ever change that?"

Bud stayed silent. He wasn't the least bit frightened of the blade that was against his throat. Bud didn't scare easy like he used to. He'd grown accustomed to certain things, and those things wouldn't scare him again. He was used to being threatened; he was used to being beaten and berated, and he was used to people telling him that they didn't love him.

"Ya not gonna say nothin'? Ya gonna jus' stand there n let me kill ya?"

"Do it. See if I care," Bud shrugged.

Tolbert brought the knife back a little, his brows furrowing while he gazed at his baby brother. Had he just said—

"_TOLBERT MCCOY!_"

Both boys turned toward Sally, the knife clattering at Bud's feet.

"You get yer hide up those stairs! Go t' bed now!"

Tolbert shot Bud a glare before doing what he was told. Sally sighed heavily and picked the knife up, laying it on the table.

"C'mon, Bud. You'll sleep in my room t'night."

"Mama," he began to protest.

"Randolph McCoy, Junior, you will sleep in my room t'night! Do ya understand me?" Sally raised her voice a little, causing Bud to flinch. He knew his mother was tired and likely didn't like to be wakened by such petty little things, so he agreed to it.

Despite everything, Bud still loved each and every one of his family members dearly. He didn't care that they despised him. He loved them more than anything in the world, and he would always take up for them. Even if they did something like Tolbert had just done.

"I don't want ya gettin' hurt, baby," Sally told him after they'd entered her room; the same room that she shared with Ran'l.

"He wa'n't gonna do nothin'. He's drunk, Mama," Bud muttered, reluctantly getting in the bed.

"I know he's drunk. That's why I'm scared he'll hurt ya. Tolbert's not really aware of what he's a-doin' right now, n I don't want ya gettin' hurt 'cause of it."

"It's fine, Mama. 'M used t' it," Bud mumbled.

"What d' ya mean yer used t' it?" Sally turned her head toward him.

Bud grimaced. He hadn't meant to say that aloud.

"Nothin', Mama."

"_Bud._"

He turned his head toward her, finding her pleading eyes staring at him.

"I promise ya, Mama, it's nothin'. Nothin' at all."

Sally sighed and let the matter drop. He would talk to her eventually. She just had to give him time.

—

When Tolbert finally came downstairs the next morning, Bud was still sleeping on Ran'l's side of the bed. And when Tolbert noticed his baby brother was nowhere in sight, he asked his mother about his whereabouts.

"He's sleepin' in my room. Ya right near killed him last night, Tolbert."

"I what?" Tolbert blinked.

"I came out t' see whatcha were yellin' 'bout n ya had a knife t' his throat. Ya asked him if he was gonna stand there n let ya kill him, an—an' he told ya t' go 'head, that he didn't care," Sally explained, setting the last plate on the table.

"Is he okay?! I didn't — I didn't..."

"No, ya didn't hurt him none. Not physically, anyways. I don't know whatcha said t' him before that, but it's bothered him. Cried himself t' sleep last night. I thought I'd never get him t' sleep," Sally confessed, watching Tolbert pale.

_Oh God, _he'd made it worse. He had Bud to where he would talk to him and he'd ruined it all by his actions after he came home the night before.

The front door swung open and Ran'l walked in, looking at his son and wife strangely. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it.

A scream sounded from Ran'l and Sally's bedroom.

Without as much as a second thought, Sally took off, running toward the room and shoving the door open, finding her son sitting up with wide, frightened eyes. She rushed over to him, sitting on the edge of the bed and trying to comfort him.

"Don't — don't touch me!" he shouted the instant she moved to lay a hand on his shoulder. "I don't want ya t' touch me!"

"Alright, honey, I won't. Tell me what's wrong."

"They're — they're gonna kill me, Mama. I don't wanna die," Bud sobbed, hanging his head low.

"Who's gonna kill ya, baby?"

"T-Tol'ert n Poppy!"

Tolbert and Ran'l, both of whom had followed Sally and stood in the doorway, flinched at his words.

Sally could understand Tolbert being a part of the dream, but Ran'l? What had he done to him?

"'M sorry, 'm so sorry! I swear, Mama, I—I won't ever cause no trouble 'gain!"

"Woah, Buddy, calm down. No one's gonna hurt ya."

Bud sat there and cried. Tolbert and Ran'l watched while she slowly managed to get him to calm down, and even coaxed the boy into allowing her to hug him tightly.

He clung to her and whimpered, Sally pulling her fingers through his unruly curls. She shushed him and murmured comforting words and phrases in his ear, gently rocking back and forth.

Sally's heart broke for her youngest son. She'd known for a while that there was something wrong with him, but she couldn't get him to talk to her. Last night was the first time in a little over a month that he'd actually spoken to her.

"Baby, y' gotta breathe," Sally murmured. "It's alright, Buddy, I promise ya it is. Shh, it's okay, it's okay."

"I don't wanna die, Mama," he whimpered.

"An' ya won't. I promise, Bud. Ya won't die. Not 'til yer old n grey, honey."

Sally massaged the back of his head, watching as his eyelids became heavy. He fought to stay awake, though. He couldn't sleep if he was going to have dreams like that.

"Why don't ya rest some more, Bud? I'll wake ya when breakfast's ready."

"A'ight, Mama," he agreed softly.

Sally cupped his face with her hands, pulling his head down a little and kissing his forehead. She smiled softly and rubbed his face before standing.

"Mama!"

"What?" she turned around, thinking she might've accidentally hurt him or hit an injury he was hiding from them.

"I love you."

Sally nearly breathed a sigh of relief.

"I love ya too, Buddy."

—

**_March 1881_**

Bud spent most of his time with Sally. Ran'l didn't stop him — Bud was finally talking to somebody and it was like he was his old self again.

Ran'l didn't know why his son had just shut everybody out without any warning or reasoning. He knew that something must have happened, and he'd tried his best to figure out what it was, but to no avail. He hadn't had the least bit of luck.

Bud was happier now. He did anything and everything Sally asked him to do, and that was how he ended up going to Pikeville. Sally usually asked either Ran'l or Calvin to go with her, but Bud had been so sweet as of late that she figured the boy could use a day away from the farm and all of its responsibilities.

Bud mostly kept to himself, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat with his hat pulled down enough that no one could see his eyes. Bud preferred it that way. There were people who greeted Sally, who reciprocated the gesture kindly, and she never forced Bud to speak to any of them. She just kept her arm hooked around his so he couldn't run off. If he ran off while they were in Pikeville, she'd never find him.

They wandered in and out of shops, where Sally did release him from her grasp and allowed him to wander around. Each time she caught him admiring something and offered to buy it, Bud declined and gave a weak, "I was jus' lookin' at it, Mama. I don't want it."

She knew that Bud wouldn't tenderly touch something he didn't want, but she never said anything. She only sighed and said, "Alright. What d' ya say we get outta here, hm?"

Bud always agreed and followed her out of the store.

Entering the next store, as Sally tried to make her trips to Pikeville few and far between, Bud spotted a section full of wood carvings. Sally knew how much Bud liked them, so she told him to go look around while she gathered what she needed.

Bud shuffled over to them, observing each little figure and statue. There were animals and people, even some that were carved as hunters in the woods preparing to shoot a bear or a raccoon. Bud understood that; he liked hunting.

When he took his hound dog — whose name was Missy— he hunted things like raccoons and rabbits, maybe squirrels and pheasants, if Missy didn't howl and scare them off.

He'd been told by his brothers that he was a sharpshooter; that Bud rarely missed anything he aimed at. The only time he did, it was because Missy scared the living daylights out of him by giving a loud bark. That or whichever brother he went with scared the living daylights out of him by shooting their rifle right beside his ear, which caused it to ring.

But God, he loved hunting. He loved getting out in the mountains away from everyone for a few hours, just listening to the birds call to each other and spotting a female deer with her fawns, watching them as they frolicked around. Bud loved watching all the creatures as they ran around. They knew the hills as well as he did, maybe even better, he didn't really know.

He shook his head and focused on the wood in front of him again. Bud could easily make any one of them himself; he knew how to carve things out of wood. He'd gotten quite good at it since he started carving dolls for his younger sisters. It became a tradition for them; every year on their birthday and at Christmas, they would receive a carved doll from Bud. Each one had something different about it, and he was always trying to make them better than the last.

He knew they kept them in their chests, replacing the one they kept in the room each time they got a new one. That was good enough for him, knowing that something he did made someone happy. It made him feel like he was at least good enough to make someone smile, and he kept on doing it, ignoring the fact that his sisters hated him.

"Bud, honey?"

Bud was startled and nearly jumped out of his skin when Sally placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, sorry. Musta been thinkin'," he laughed breathlessly.

Sally laughed with him, shaking her head lightly. She knew Bud had the tendency to start thinking and space out, to just stare at whatever he'd been looking at without realizing he was doing it. She never thought anything of it; her son was intelligent in every way and she never told him that he shouldn't spend so much time thinking. It was usually _after _he did that that he did something that was absolutely genius. He'd started a tradition with his younger sisters that way, had even thought about starting to do it with Alifair, who seemed to be growing tired of being gifted a dime novel.

"Mama... Ali's got a birthday soon... ya think she'd like somethin' made of wood instead this year?"

"Maybe so," Sally nodded. "She has quite a few dime novels."

"I know. She likes eagles, don't she?"

"'Deed she does."

"Hmm..."

She could practically see the wheels in Bud's head turning. He didn't talk to Alifair, didn't talk to anyone but Sally, but she knew that he still loved each and every one of them dearly. She watched her son as he chewed on his lip, clearly thinking something over while he stood and observed the small wooden figures in front of him.

"Maybe... I'm sorry, Mama, ya ready t' go?" Bud turned toward her. She let out a laugh and nodded.

"I don't mind standin' here if yer tryin' ta figure somethin' out, honey."

"Nah, I got it," Bud murmured sheepishly, his cheeks reddening. "Jus' hope Alifair likes it."

"I'm sure she'll like whatever it is yer plannin' on doin'," Sally assured him, looping her arm around his. "Let's go home, darlin'."

—

Bud had found a good piece of wood that evening and was sitting in front of the fire on a crate, carving away at it. His mother knew that he was up to something, as did his father, but neither one of them said a word to him. He was content to sit by the fire and carve a piece of wood.

Tolbert had done Bud's chores for him since he was in Pikeville most of the day, so Ran'l had no qualms with letting the boy sit and carve wood. He knew Bud had started the tradition of carving wooden dolls for Trinnie, Addie, and Fanny, but he knew it was too soon for him to be starting on that. Well... it was too soon unless he was planning to try something completely different with them.

Wood shavings fell at his feet, but Bud paid them no mind. He continued to carefully glide his knife along the wood.

"What d' ya think he's up to, Sally?" Ran'l asked softly so he wouldn't hear.

"I dunno. Ain't seen him that happy in a while, though, so it's best not t' say anythin', Ran'l. Reckon we'll find out when he gets it done."

"I can't figure out why he won't talk t' none of us. Bud's never been that way."

"He'll come 'round eventually. Just give him time."

"You know what it is?" Ran'l looked at his wife.

"No," she shook her head slightly, "I'm afraid I don't. He's never said n I never asked. He had a good day, though. He enjoyed goin' t' Pikeville."

"I'm glad he did," Ran'l gave a small smile. "I think that whatever happened with him n Tolbert has helped a little. He's talkin' ta you now, Sally."

"That he is," Sally nodded in agreement. "I'm not sure what's happened to him, Ran'l. All I know is that my baby boy is more content alone than he is with his family right now. It worries me."

Bud looked up when the door opened, revealing Perry Cline. He didn't say anything, but his face fell and the happiness vanished. His eyes — which had been bright again — became dull and he focused on the wood in front of him. He wouldn't say anything to Perry; Perry had been nothing but cruel ever since Bud had told Roseanna what the boys were up to.

His parents noticed the change in his mood. Sally stood and made her way over to him, moving the rocking chair to where she sat directly beside him. He could hear Ran'l and Perry conversing quietly; too quiet to make out what they were saying.

"Whatcha doin'?" Sally asked, looking at him curiously.

"Makin' somethin'," was his response. "I got t' thinkin'. Ali's got more than 'nough books, Mama. I think she's gettin' tired of gettin' those. So I's gonna make her somethin' diff'rent."

"Oh, really?" Sally kept her voice low. "What're ya makin' her?"

"Somethin' like the ones in that shop. Gonna try my best at it, anyways. I gotta figure out what t' do for Tolbert this year, too, since they're both s' close with their birthdays," he mused, glancing at Sally.

"That they are," she nodded slightly. "Very close."

"With Ali bein' on the tenth of June n Tolbert bein' on the sixteenth. Bet you just love havin' t' bake two pies in the same week."

"It ain't all that bad," she laughed. "Least we get somethin' sweet."

"Yeah, that's true. I like sweets." A soft smile spread across his face. "Like sweets a whole lot."

"Oh, I know. Ya love cookies an awful lot, Buddy."

"They're good," he shrugged. "Ain't my fault ya bake good cookies, Mama."

Sally burst into a fit of laughter, her eyes alight with mirth while she laughed at her son's comment.

"Well, I thank ya. Glad ya like 'em, baby."

"Mama, I ain't a baby," he playfully rolled his eyes. The only time they ever bantered, it was playful, and Bud could keep it going so long as Sally didn't stop him. He had a sharp witty tongue, and he rarely used it against his family. But when he did, the comments were something you couldn't help but laugh at.

"Alright then, what are ya?"

"I'm almost a grown man, Mama! Y' know that as well as I do!"

"I dunno," Sally scratched the back of her neck. "Sometimes I think yer still a baby."

"_Mama!_" Bud exclaimed, earning a peal of laughter from her and odd looks from Perry and Ran'l. "I ain't no baby."

"Alright, so ya ain't a baby. But yer still _my _baby. Yer my baby boy, ya know that. I love ya a whole lot, darlin'."

"I know that, Mama. I love ya a whole lot too. I love ev'rybody, I really do, but... but I can't, Mama."

"Ya can't what?"

"Never mind," he shook his head. "Reckon I'm just thinkin' too much 'gain."

Sally sighed. She knew that he would tell her eventually. She just had to be patient.

—

Bud never enjoyed getting around his father when he was drunk. And most of the time, it was just because Bud had either forgotten something downstairs or he wanted a glass of water.

On this particular night — March nineteenth — Bud had asked Sally if he could stay downstairs and work on his newest wooden figure. Sally had agreed and had told him to wake her if he needed anything. So Bud stayed up, seated in front of the fireplace, carefully carving the wood.

Thunder cracked and lightning flashed, rain pounding against the roof. Bud paid it no mind; Tolbert had told him that storms were common throughout March and April and that it helped to soften the ground after it froze in the winter months. Bud supposed that his brother had a point, that at the very least, he'd been right about that, but he wasn't too sure.

He had just set his knife and the wood down to take a small break, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He grunted and let his hands fall, looking up when the front door opened. It was Ran'l, as Ran'l was the only one who'd been crazy enough to go out in the storm, so Bud was less than surprised to see him. He was less than surprised to find that his father was drunk as well. Bud averted his gaze.

"Wha're y' doin' up?" Ran'l slurred, giving the boy a glare.

"Mama said I could stay up n work on this," Bud answered honestly, his thumb rubbing the wood.

"Wha' fer?"

"I dunno. I asked n she said I could, s' I'm workin' on it."

"C'mere."

Bud grimaced and did as he was told. He wasn't stupid enough to go against Ran'l when he was in a drunken state. Bud didn't fight against him when Ran'l wrapped his hand around Bud's arm in an iron grip, leading him toward the kitchen. Bud was less than surprised when his father roughly shoved him against the wall.

He could see the fury in Ran'l's eyes. Bud's heart sunk a little when he realized that he'd only seen Ran'l look that way at him. He never looked that way at any of the others when he got mad at them.

"Y'know, yer Mama don't love ya, Bud. She don't hate ya like I do, but she don't love ya. No one in this fam'ly loves you, Bud."

Bud didn't flinch. He didn't react in any way.

"Ya ain't no son of mine, Bud McCoy. The only reason yer still livin' in this house is 'cause of yer mother, but believe me when I tell ya she don't love ya. Why would anyone be stupid enough ta love someone like you?"

Bud watched as Ran'l moved away from him. His brows furrowed in confusion. Ran'l had never just walked away.

Bud hesitantly followed him, finding him in front of the fire, holding the doll that Bud was working on. Ran'l's eyes met Bud's and he threw the doll into the fire, Bud making a noise in the back of his throat. Ran'l didn't say a word; he just went on to bed, leaving Bud alone, staring at the fire.

—

He didn't sleep that night. He'd knelt down beside the crate that he'd set the doll on and had exhaled deeply through his nostrils. He didn't understand why Ran'l had done that to him. His father had seen the work he'd put into it, had seen how long it had taken Bud to carve the little bit that he had.

And now he had to start all over.

Sally and Ran'l were the first ones up. They found their son sitting on his knees, staring down at the crate. The fire had died hours ago, but Bud hadn't bothered to keep it going. There was no sense to; he wouldn't pay it any mind. Not anymore, at least.

"Bud, honey, ain't you been t' bed?" Sally asked softly.

Bud just kept staring at the crate. She didn't love him either, so why answer?

"Bud?"

"Bud, why don't ya answer yer mother?"

Bud clenched his jaw. What right did Ran'l have to say anything to him after what he'd done? He could remember every word his father had uttered while he was drunk; he remembered every hurtful word that was hurled at him for the last two months.

"Randolph McCoy, Junior, I swear, ya better answer yer mother!"

He'd had enough. What right did Ran'l have to act like he was in the wrong when Bud hadn't done a single thing?

"Maybe you was a mistake." He looked up at Ran'l, his hazel eyes burning with anger. "Maybe I made it givin' ya my name, I don't know, but you were a mistake, Randolph McCoy, Junior. You're too weak, too soft t' be a son of mine. I don't love you. I hate you almost as much as I hate the Hatfields. Ya've never done anythin' t' make me proud. You're a shame t' the family, a _disgrace._"

"What are you—"

"Ya ain't done nothin' but disappoint me since ya've been alive. Even yer best ain't good enough. I wonder why I let ya stay here n keep my name, ya ain't good for nothin'. Your Mama don't love ya. She don't hate ya like I do, but she don't love ya. No one in this family loves ya. Ya ain't no son of mine, Bud McCoy. The only reason you're still livin' in this house is 'cause of your mother, but believe me when I tell ya she don't love ya. Why would anyone be stupid enough t' love someone like you?"

Bud's voice was trembling terribly. His parents stared at him in shock.

"Ya r'member that, Poppy?"

He heard someone come down the stairs and turned his head. Tolbert made his way over to them, looking confused.

"What's—"

"And you. I hate you. I hate you so much I wish ya'd die," Bud threw the words Tolbert had screamed at him right back. "Maybe I should just kill ya now. Y-ya ain't never done nothin' fer this fam'ly anyways. S' why should I believe for one second that ya'd ever change that?"

Tolbert blinked, staring at his youngest brother in shock.

"You remember that, Tolbert? You remember tellin' me ya hate me s' much you wish I'd die?!"

"Bud, what...?"

"None of you love me. Not a _single one of you _love me. No one who can sit and watch me work on somethin' an' then just throw it in the fire can sit and say they love me!"

Bud burst into a heart-wrenching sob, ducking his head and pulling at his hair.

Sally was the first to snap out of shock. She moved and knelt beside him, gently pulling him into an embrace. Bud didn't fight her; he had given up.

"Oh my God," Ran'l breathed. "Bud, I didn't—"

"What's goin' on?" Calvin asked as he joined Tolbert, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"God, you're so stupid. Do ya even have a brain in that head o' yours, Bud? What _ever _made ya think that was a good idea? You're stupid, Bud! You're a stupid idiotic moron," Bud forced out, refusing to lift his gaze.

Calvin flinched. He'd been so mad at Bud that he hadn't cared what he said to him. Clearly, whatever had been bothering Bud had made it worse and now the words were back again.

"Bud, I didn't—"

"Don't you say ya didn't mean it!" Bud cut him off, moving away from Sally. He stood up. "Ya meant it. Ya meant _every dagon word _of it. You know ya did. Don't start actin' like ya love me now, Calvin."

Bud shoved him roughly, causing him to stumble into Pharmer, who grunted when he was knocked off balance. He caught himself, and held Calvin up as well, mumbling under his breath. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Tolbert knew that almost everyone had said something to Bud over the last few months, whether it be over him telling Roseanna what they were doing or something else entirely, but almost every one of the McCoys had hurt him in some way over the last few months. He only hoped Pharmer's hadn't cut as deep as any of the others so far.

"Bud?" Pharmer looked at him, his eyes shining with concern.

"You're so stupid. I swear, sometimes I think ya ain't got a brain in your head. Ya ain't got no sense, least ya ain't got no good sense, anyway. So why don't ya do us all a favor and just _keep your mouth shut?_"

Pharmer blanched. He didn't think Bud remembered that. He saw the funny look in Bud's eyes; the one that made Bud's eyes look so dull that they were almost lifeless. And he didn't know what he could possibly do.

Bud looked at Ran'l again. He noticed that sally had moved from the floor and sat on the crate.

"I'm real sorry, Poppy. If it helps any, I wish I weren't born. I wish Tolbert woulda killed me that night he nearly did. I wish I never woulda told Roseanna and they went through with it, and the Hatfields thought it was me n killed me 'stead of them. I wish I'd die. I do, I just wish I would _die. _I pray ev'ry night, ask God t' just let me die and not wake up, but every day I wake up. And I'm _so sorry. _I'm too yellow t' kill m'self. I'm sorry I'm weak. I'm sorry I'm not who ya want me t' be, Poppy."

_"Ya cryin', Bud? Ya gonna sit here n cry like a little baby like ya always do? Are ya s' weak that ya can't take what I say t' ya, Bud? Huh?"_

Ran'l's words echoed in Bud's ears, and he tried his hardest not to let it show. Sure, Bud was weak, but he wasn't that weak. He wasn't going to cry, no matter how much he wanted to. Bud would _not _cry. Especially in front of Ran'l.

"I'm sorry I ain't no good. I know — I know yer real dis'pointed in me an' ya wish ya never woulda gave me yer name. I know I ain't ever made ya proud, Poppy. But I try. I really do. That ain't enough either."

He could remember what Alifair had said to him the last time she got mad at him.

_"My God, everywhere ya go, everythin' ya do, ya make a mess! Who needs bad luck when they got someone like you around?"_

She'd been mad, had apologized for it later on, but it still hurt. And Bud knew that she was right; that he was nothing but bad luck and he still stayed.

"Bud?" Tolbert gently touched his shoulder. "Ya listenin' t' me?"

"Yeah," Bud mumbled, his gaze focused on the floor while he shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to distract himself. He didn't want to look anyone in the eye.

"I didn't mean a word of it. I don't hate ya; I love ya. Love ya a whole lot, Buddy. We all do, n we all want ya alive, too. I'm sorry I said that t' ya, darlin'. I don't even remember comin' home that night."

"It's okay," Bud said quickly. "You don't have t' apologize, Tolbert. Really, ya woulda been doin' ev'ryone a favor."

"Bud, ya quit talkin' like that," Sally chided gently.

"Well, it's true, Mama! I ain't been nothin' but a burden on this fam'ly for sixteen years. I'm sorry for it, I really am." Quieter, in a whisper that only his brothers heard, he said, "I wish I woulda died the second I was born."

Tolbert moved and tightly wrapped his arms around him in a hug. Bud didn't move. Tolbert pressed a kiss to Bud's cheek, tears rolling down his face while he embraced his baby brother. Bud didn't understand that. Tolbert wasn't weak — he was one of the strongest people Bud knew.

Tolbert let go, bringing his hands up and wiping his eyes.

"Oh, Bud," he breathed, suddenly understanding why the boy had pushed everyone away from him. He was just trying to keep from getting hurt. "_Bud._"

He was still fighting against the tears; fighting to keep his composure. His hands and legs trembled, but Bud was fine. He had no choice but to be fine.

And to make matters worse, he felt that his breaking point had been stupid. His breaking point had been the instant Ran'l threw the doll he was carving for Alifair into the fire. That was what made Bud break.

"Buddy...?" Pharmer cautiously laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Buddy, please don't say that."

"Oh God, Bud," Calvin mumbled. He was still trying to process everything and found it hard to believe that his sixteen-year-old brother wanted to die. He found it hard to believe that he wished he'd never been born, or that he would be killed, or that he would've died the second he was born. Calvin didn't think it was right for a sixteen-year-old to wish that.

Bud lifted his gaze. He saw the heartbroken expression on Tolbert's face and he just _broke. _He fell to the floor and cried. Tolbert was down in front of him in an instant, wrapping his arms tightly around him while Pharmer mumbled something to Calvin. Calvin nodded before taking off up the stairs.

Ran'l was beside Tolbert, and Sally had gone to their room to fetch something — she'd said what it was, but it had been so quiet and it had been said so quickly that Tolbert hadn't caught what it was.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Tolbert murmured, holding the boy while he cried. Ran'l looked like he was fighting his own tears, and opted to rub his son's back in silence. Tolbert had a feeling that he'd be taking Bud somewhere more private to talk to him once he'd calmed down a little.

Calvin returned with a quilt. He unfolded it and wrapped it around Bud, Tolbert moving his arms so they laid on top of it and held it in place.

"What's goin' on?" Alifair queried as she stepped out of the room she shared with the younger children.

"It's all a mess, Alifair. Ya best keep the little ones in there a while," Pharmer replied. Alifair only nodded before sending her youngest brother a sympathetic glance, slipping back inside the room.

Bud's arms had wrapped around Tolbert, clenching the fabric of Tolbert's undershirt. His head laid on Tolbert's shoulder, and for a moment, Pharmer would have believed that Tolbert was just helping the boy calm down from a terrible bad dream. But he knew that wasn't the case; that Tolbert was actually trying to comfort their baby brother after he confessed that he wanted to die.

Sally returned then, huffing while she handed Ran'l a white handkerchief. He nodded his thanks and suggested that she helped Alifair with the younger children, who were bound to grow curious at some point and try to peek out to see what was going on. Sally agreed to it and went to their room.

Pharmer and Calvin — after discussing it for a moment — knelt to Bud's right and to his left, as he had his legs stretched out behind him.

"Bud..."

He peered up at Tolbert, who looked like he was on the verge of tears again.

"Please don't ask God t' let ya die anymore," Tolbert pleaded. Bud silently nodded. He wouldn't do it anymore. He'd live the rest of his life, no matter how miserable he might've been. He hummed when Tolbert started to play with his hair.

It had been so long since Bud had felt like he could actually trust someone to touch him that he supposed he was to the point that he didn't care. He'd just thrown Tolbert's own hurtful words back in his face, and now he was in Tolbert's embrace, letting him comfort him. Ran'l was there, too, gently rubbing his back without saying a word. Bud didn't mind it — it felt rather nice.

He'd grown so accustomed to the way Ran'l had been when he was drunk that he'd forgotten how loving his father could be. He'd forgotten the Ran'l that he'd loved his entire life. He was so used to Ran'l always hurling insults at him and hitting him until Bud was begging for it to stop that he didn't see how his father could be so different when he was sober.

Bud was so very tired. He was tired of living, tired of fighting, tired of the insults and the beatings. He was tired of everything. He nuzzled the crook of Tolbert's neck, tears still falling. He really hoped that Ran'l didn't get drunk again for a long while.

Tolbert hadn't drunk any moonshine since the incident the month before. Bud knew that, but he still avoided Tolbert as though he were the Devil himself. It was wrong of him, he knew that, but he hadn't talked to anyone but Sally for the last month.

His eyes burned and his head hurt. Bud had cried too much. Bud should've kept it all to himself, he could handle it. But he'd snapped because of a wooden doll that he'd been working on.

It was a petty thing to get mad over, but it was one that was so intricate, Bud honestly didn't know if he would be able to restart and get it done in enough time, despite Alifair's birthday being in June. It had taken him quite a while to get the little bit of progress he had on it, but it was fine. He supposed Alifair would receive another dime novel this year.

"What's goin' on in that head of yours?" Tolbert asked teasingly, trying to bring the boy out of his sullen mood.

"Gon' have t' get Alifair a dime novel this year," he whispered hoarsely. "Don't think I got 'nough time t' restart."

_The doll._

It was for Alifair. It wasn't something that he was using as a way to avoid them like they'd originally thought. He'd set out to _make _Alifair a gift this year and it had been destroyed.

"Why not?" Pharmer's brows pinched together.

"'S too complicated," Bud laughed bitterly. "It took me _two weeks _to get the little bit I had done. I was stupid for even tryin' that or thinkin' Alifair would want a doll."

"I think she woulda liked it," Tolbert murmured, pulling his fingers through Bud's thick locks of honey-brown hair. "Why don't ya try again, hm?"

"I don't... it ain't worth it, Tol. It'll get ruined too."

"No, it won't. We'll find ya a better piece of wood n let ya carve it however ya want."

"I'm sorry," Bud mumbled. "Reckon I just ain't no good."

"You are plenty of good, Buddy."

"Bud, can I talk to ya a minute?"

Bud's heart stopped. Oh God, he was as good as dead, wasn't he? Ran'l wanted to talk to him. That couldn't be good, not after what he'd done.

"Yeah, Poppy," he agreed quietly, standing and following his father to the bedroom. He blanched when Ran'l closed the door.

"Bud, why didn't ya tell me 'bout any of that?" Ran'l asked softly.

"I dunno. Figured ya knew," Bud shrugged, not meeting his father's eye. "I understand it. Yer right, after all. Ain't done nothin' but caused trouble an' I ain't ever done nothin' t' make ya proud of me. I'm — I'm sorry ya got stuck with me."

"Oh God," Ran'l breathed. He'd hurt his son terribly. "I never... I never—"

"Ya did, but it wa'n't no worse than a bruise or two," Bud spoke quickly. "Didn't hurt too bad, Poppy."

"All them bruises?"

"...Yeah."

"Oh my God. I am — oh God, son, I'm s' sorry."

"Ya don't r'member any of it?" Bud asked meekly. He hoped Ran'l didn't; he hoped he didn't remember the way Bud looked so terrified of him, or the way Bud would scream and cry and beg him to stop.

"No, I don't," Ran'l shook his head. "I know words won't do no good, but I'm sorry, Bud. I'm not the nicest person when I get drunk n I talk outta my head. 'S why yer Mama hates it when I go out drinkin'."

"You don't have t—"

"Yes, I do," Ran'l cut him off, but he kept his voice soft and gentle. He gently grasped Bud's biceps, and he noticed how the boy tensed. "Did I hurt ya last night?"

"No. Y' didn't do anythin' but talk n throw the doll in the fire. Then ya went t' bed like nothin' happened."

"Oh dear Lord," Ran'l murmured, pulling his son into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry, Bud. I didn't mean a word of it, no matter what I said t' ya. I love ya. I do. I love ya more than you'll ever know, son. Ya don't disappoint me n I don't regret givin' ya my name. Ya ain't no mistake either. You're my son, my youngest one at that, an' I love you very much, Randolph McCoy, Junior."

Bud clung to his father, a sob tearing from his throat.

"'M sorry, Poppy."

"Don't be. Ya ain't done nothin' wrong, Bud."

"I wanna be better, I really do. I just — I _can't. _I only went n told Roseanna 'cause I knew they'd get killed if they killed him, Poppy. I didn't know she was gonna go t' the Hatfields, honest I didn't! I—I thought she'd knock some sense int' 'em or somethin'."

"I know. Ya did the right thing, Buddy."

"I'm s' sorry, Poppy," he sobbed into Ran'l's shoulder.

"Shh... shh, it's okay," Ran'l cooed, trying to calm his son down. "You're a'ight, everythin's a'ight. I promise ya, Buddy, everythin's okay."

"'M sorry I ain't good 'nough, Poppy. I don't — I don't wanna live. I wanna die, Poppy."

"I know. I don't want ya t' die, Bud. I want you t' live. Ya listenin' t' me? I want ya t' grow up, find ya a purdy girl n git married to 'er. Have ya a fam'ly. Do what ya want with yer life, Bud, and don't ya let no one stop ya. You live 'til yer old n grey. An' when ya look back on yer life, I want ya t' be happy with the choices ya made, no matter how many regrets ya've got. I want ya t' be happy, son. I really do want that for ya. I don't want ya dead, Bud. I love ya."

"Love ya too, Poppy," he whispered softly, his head laying on Ran'l's shoulder. "Love ya a whole lot."

"That right?" Ran'l looked down at his youngest son, a small smile on his lips.

"Mhm. I think yer a great man, Poppy. Even when ya are mean n drunk."

Ran'l laughed a little, hugging his son tightly. And without giving it a second thought, Ran'l kissed his son's temple.

"I love you."

"I love ya too, Poppy."

—

**_October 1881_**

The fall harvest had just begun, and Bud was already sick of getting up before the sun.

"Hey, c'mon, we gotta git up," Tolbert slapped Bud's arm as he got up.

"No," Bud moaned, pulling the blanket over his head. "Leave me 'lone."

"Bud, ya know Poppy'll kill us both if we don't get downstairs." Tolbert jerked the blanket off of Bud.

"Let him!" Bud retaliated, jerking the blanket out of Tolbert's hand and covering up again.

"Ya best git yer hide outta bed, Bud. We got work t' do."

Bud grunted and held tight to the blanket, keeping it pulled over his head.

"Oh, come on! This is ridiculous, Bud! Ya really don't want me t' send Poppy up here, do ya?"

"Most he'll do is what you did, an' you see how well that worked out."

"Fine. I'm goin' t' tell Poppy ya won't git yer hide outta bed. Don't ya blame me if drags ya out by yer hair."

Bud huffed, curling up under the blanket. He could deal with Tolbert telling Ran'l that he wouldn't get up. That just meant Bud had about five extra minutes to sleep. He heard the door open and close, but he paid it no mind. Tolbert never did anything that would really get Bud in trouble.

Everything had gone back to normal in the McCoy household. Bud liked it that way. He liked talking to everyone and telling them that he loved them. With the feud going on between his family and the Hatfields, Bud felt like he had to tell them each time they left the house, or even if he left the house. He never knew if he would come back or if they would come back. He didn't want to risk that.

"Hey, Bud. Heard yer givin' Tol trouble this mornin'," Ran'l spoke as he entered the room. Bud grunted in response. Ran'l laughed heartily at him, his laugh bouncing off the walls. "What ya wanna stay in bed fer, son?"

"Don't feel s' good," Bud grumbled.

"What's the matter wit'cha?"

"I dunno. I jus' don't feel s' good."

"Ya ain't secretly drinkin', are ya?"

"Oh God, no," Bud made a disgusted face. "Did that once n ain't ever doin' it again."

"When'd ya do that?"

"Mmm... Feb'ary?" Bud guessed. "Ya saw me come in."

"Oh, that is right. I ended up drinkin' a little too much that day n after I woke up, you came in n were s' drunk ya could barely stand."

"Yeah... Regretted it, too."

"I'd say ya did after ya woke up. Find out the hard way ya get sick?"

"Mhm."

Ran'l huffed in amusement, shaking his head.

"Wanna tell me what's wrong wit'cha now?"

"'S jus' a headache. M' stomach hurts, too, but I'm fine, Poppy. I'll be up in a minute, I swear."

"Ya sure? Ya ain't gonna throw up, are ya?"

"Nah, 'm okay," Bud pulled the blanket down. "Prob'ly where I didn't eat much yes'day."

"Why didn't ya eat much?"

"Had things t' do," Bud shrugged as he sat up, gazing at his father with tired eyes. "I'm fine though, Poppy. Just didn't wanna get up yet 's all."

"Yeah, I know. Ain't fun gettin' up this early, is it?"

"No, sir," Bud chuckled. "I'll be down in a minute. I promise."

"A'ight. If you ain't downstairs in five minutes, I'm sendin' Tolbert an' the other boys up here. They'll gladly drag ya outta bed."

"Don't I know it," Bud rolled his eyes, earning a laugh from Ran'l. "I'll be down in three, I swear. Ain't no need t' send them up here."

"I'm holdin' ya to that, son."

—

Bud visited Roseanna more often now that she had had her baby. Well, she'd had Sarah Elizabeth back in February, but Bud hadn't been doing much of anything then. The baby was eight months old and she was an absolute angel in Bud's eyes. He didn't see how anyone could hate a baby, no matter who their father was.

A baby didn't have the choice of being born. If Bud had had that choice, he wouldn't have been born. He didn't know a lot, but he knew that he still wanted to die. He just kept it to himself and didn't dare to say anything to anybody about it.

Entering Aunt Betty's home, he greeted his aunt before moving to the living room, where Roseanna sat on the sofa, an arm draped over her eyes. His sister had been sickly before she had the baby, but she'd recovered and was as happy as could be with her new baby. Sarah Elizabeth had literally been Roseanna's saving grace.

"Howdy, Rose," Bud greeted, startling his older sister.

"Oh, good heavens!" She moved her arm and shot the boy a playful glare. "Howdy. Please let someone know when ya enter a room, Bud."

"I did. I said howdy."

"Whatever," she sighed tiredly, leaning back again.

"She any better?"

"Not really, no. Jus' got her t' sleep 'bout twenty minutes 'go," Roseanna told him. "Y' can hold her if ya want."

Sarah Elizabeth had gotten sick. She'd contracted the measles and on top of that, she'd contracted pneumonia as well. Bud had stopped in more and more often out of fear that the infant wouldn't survive, and he wanted to spend what time he had with his niece.

Bud approached the cradle, bending down and scooping the baby up in his arms. That was when he noticed something was wrong. Something was so terribly wrong. Her skin was _so cold. _Bud looked down at her, his brows furrowed while he tried to piece together what was wrong.

Roseanna hadn't noticed. She was still leaned against the back of the sofa, half-asleep. Bud knew that she hadn't slept much since Sarah Elizabeth got sick, as she had been extremely restless and cried almost every hour of the day and night.

He moved his right hand to where it laid on her torso, his heart skipping a beat. She wasn't breathing. There was no heartbeat, either.

"Oh God, no," he muttered under his breath. "Oh nononono, no, breathe, c'mon!"

He looked over his shoulder at his sister, who still hadn't noticed something was wrong.

"Nonono, Sally, wake up, please," Bud mumbled lowly. "_Sally._"

"Somethin' wrong, Bud?"

"Huh? No," he shook his head swiftly. "No, no, it's fine! Ev'rythin — ev'rythin's fine! I'm gonna go get some water, be right back."

Bud rushed out of the living room and found Aunt Betty in the kitchen, stitching a bright colored quilt.

"Aunt Betty, Aunt Betty, I can't get 'er t' wake up!" Bud passed the baby to the older woman. Panic seized his heart and squeezed it tightly, words that he'd long forgotten ringing in his ears again.

_Who needs bad luck when they have someone like you?_

Aunt Betty lifted her gaze after a moment and shook her head. Bud felt like the breath had been knocked out of him; he felt like someone had wrenched his heart out of his chest and stomped on it right in front of him, and that they had just laughed in his face after doing so.

"Reckon I better tell Rose," he whispered, taking the still infant back into his arms.

Bud didn't want to tell her. He should've known to stay away — nothing good ever happened when he was around. Bud did nothing but cause trouble and bring bad luck.

Entering the living room a second time, he found Roseanna sitting on the sofa, just as she had been before, only now she didn't have her arm thrown over her eyes.

"Bud... ya look awful pale. Is somethin' wrong?" Roseanna asked, her face pinched in a concerned expression.

He didn't want to tell her. He didn't want to tell her that her baby girl, a babe that was only _eight months old, _was dead.

"Rose..."

"What? Bud, what're ya actin' s' strange for?"

"She's dead, Rose. I'm so sorry."

"Bud, stop messin' with me," she stated shakily as she stood up. She crossed over to him and took Sarah Elizabeth out of his arms.

Bud stepped back. Oh God, what had he done? He'd gotten around the baby too much and now... now she was dead and it was all his fault. Bud was nothing but bad luck, _he knew that, _and he still got around Sarah Elizabeth like he was a normal person. A normal person who didn't bring bad luck everywhere he went.

Roseanna cradled her daughter in her arms, looking up at Bud when she realized he'd been telling the truth. And then Roseanna screamed. She screamed and cried and clutched Sarah Elizabeth to her chest, begging her daughter to wake up, to take a breath. But the baby didn't stir.

Sarah Elizabeth had been perfectly healthy before Bud started coming around. Then she caught the measles, and was doing better when she caught pneumonia. That was what killed her. The baby had been miserable for a long while now, but they had hope that she was going to pull through, that she would survive. She'd been doing a little better, so _what happened?_

Bud didn't even think. He just turned and ran. He ran and he didn't look back, too afraid that Roseanna would say something. He unhitched his horse and mounted, flicking the reins and urging her to run as fast as she could.

—

Bud dismounted and hitched Midnight to the post in front of the porch before dashing inside.

_She was dead, she was dead, it was all his fault._

He ran upstairs, entering his room and finding Tolbert on the bed, mumbling to himself while he wrote something. Tolbert looked up when he entered the room and set the pen down, giving him an odd look.

"Bud?"

Bud leaned against the closed door, his head falling against it with a _thump _and his eyes closing.

"She's dead."

"Who's dead?"

"Sarah 'Lizabeth. She was _so cold, _Tolbert. She — she wouldn't wake up. She wa'n't breathin' n she didn't have a heartbeat. She's _dead._"

Tolbert stared at his baby brother for a second, processing what he'd told him. Their niece — an innocent _baby_ — was dead.

"Went t' see her. R-Rose said she'd jus' got her t' sleep 'bout twenty minutes 'go n that I could hold her. So I picked her up. She was cold, Tolbert. Got scared when she wouldn't wake n took her t' Aunt Betty... She didn't make it. Roseanna _screamed. _I — I took off, I didn't even think. Oh my God, I shouldn't've left, I shoulda—"

"No, no, you did the right thing. Roseanna needs t' grieve."

"It's all my fault," he whispered. "She was perfectly fine 'til I started goin' 'round her."

"What? Bud, there's no way this is your—"

"I bring bad luck n trouble. It's just what I do. I... I start goin' 'round Sarah 'Lizabeth an' — an' now she's _gone. _She's gone an' it's my fault. She never got sick 'til I started goin' 'round her. Then, then she got the measles n not too long after that, she got pneumonia. N now she's — she's dead n it's my fault. I ruin ev'rything."

"No, you don't," Tolbert stated firmly, standing and walking over to him. "Here... you need t' rest right now. Get some rest. It'll help ya think clearly n you'll see that none of this was yer fault."

Bud didn't fight his older brother when he started unbuttoning his shirt. He wrestled it off of Bud's shoulders, setting it on the floor before pulling his baby brother into a tight embrace. Bud didn't cry. He didn't speak, he didn't cry, he didn't move.

Tolbert figured the boy was in shock. After all, he'd held the baby and noticed something wasn't right, and he'd been the one to notice that she wasn't breathing anymore.

"Think Poppy'll care?" he queried, pulling out of Tolbert's hug and pulling his boots off.

"Yes, I think so," Tolbert nodded ever so slightly, getting back on the bed. He got on his side of it and turned onto his side, just so he could face Bud.

Bud got in bed, spreading the quilt over both of them before he curled up against Tolbert. Tolbert wrapped his arms around him, bending down and planting a kiss on his temple.

"I ruined her," he whispered. "I'm nothin' but bad luck, I know that, an' I still went 'round her, Tolbert. She was such a good baby. Hardly made a sound 'fore she got sick. 'S all my fault."

"It's not yer fault, honey. Sometimes... sometimes bad things happen t' good people. Sometimes those people are the lil babies God blesses us with, 'cause sometimes He wants 'em back. I've always been told it was this way; when ya go out n pick a flower, which one are ya gonna pick?"

"The purdiest," Bud mumbled.

"An' if we think of it that way, that God picks the purdiest flower to bring home t' Heaven, it don't seem nearly as bad, does it?"

"Reckon not," he sniffled. "That don't change this, though."

"You had nothin' t' do with it. There was an outbreak of measles down on Stringtown wit' the chil'ren there, you know that. Sarah 'Lizabeth is s' young that she can't fight it. So when she caught pneumonia, she was jus' too weak, honey. It had nothin' t' do with you."

"I shouldn't've left," Bud croaked.

"Yes, ya should've. Ya did the right thing comin' home."

"No."

"Yes."

"I'm real sorry for all the trouble, Tol. I'm — oh God, Tol, she's dead," Bud rasped, his eyes filling with tears. "_She's dead!_"

Tolbert held him and shushed him, trying to comfort him. He only hoped Bud would see that it wasn't his fault.

—

Sally sighed as she marched up the stairs, preparing to give Tolbert and Bud a good scolding for ignoring her shouts. She knew they had to hear her; there was no way they _couldn't. _Ran'l had heard her out near the barn, shouting that it was time for supper. But her two sons hadn't come downstairs.

She pushed the door open, finding them sleeping, one with dried tear tracks and the other holding on tightly to his brother. She breathed a sigh and moved toward them, wondering what had happened to make Bud cry again. Bud didn't cry very often, but when he did, it was either because he'd snapped, he was in a lot of pain, something bad had happened, and/or he was so tired he just couldn't control his emotions.

Sally was hoping he was just tired.

She gently shook Tolbert's shoulder, her second-eldest son jerking awake and grasping her wrist. Once his hazy vision cleared enough that he realized it was Sally, he released her wrist from his grasp and wrapped his arm around Bud again.

"What's wrong wit' yer brother?" Sally questioned, keeping her voice down so she wouldn't wake him.

"Sarah 'Lizabeth died t'day. Bud was the one that figured it out."

"Oh God," Sally breathed.

"He cried like a baby, Mama. Cried s' much he put himself t' sleep. He thinks it's his fault... that he don't do nothin' but bring bad luck. Wha' you doin' up here?"

"It's time for supper. I shouted at you two 'bout five times b'fore I came up t' fetch ya."

"Oh..." Tolbert gently shook Bud. Bud groaned and stirred, slowly cracking a single eye open. "Hey, it's time for supper. Wanna get up now?"

Bud blinked owlishly for a few seconds, slowly processing what Tolbert had said. His brain was still foggy, as he was half-asleep, and he slowly nodded once he realized what Tolbert had asked him. He got up, not yet realizing that Sally was in the room. He pulled his shirt on and buttoned it, tucking it in after he did so.

"Hand me that shirt over there, will ya?" Tolbert murmured and pointed to the shirt right behind Sally. Sally handed it to him, watching her son get up and pull the shirt on over his head. "I'll get him downstairs... make sure he don't fall n bust his head open."

"A'ight. I'll keep 'em waitin' for ya."

Sally left without Bud realizing she'd ever been there. Bud did, however, look extremely confused.

"What're ya doin', Bud?" Tolbert snorted.

"I dunno," he sighed, shaking his head. "Think 'm half-'sleep."

"You are, but let's get downstairs b'fore Poppy comes up t' fetch us, hm?"

"Mkay."

—

Bud stared at the ground, watching as they slowly lowered the small coffin into the ground. He had been granted permission to stand by Roseanna, who turned and sobbed into his shoulder. Bud didn't say anything; he just held her. There was nothing he could have said at that moment to make it any better.

Roseanna was young — a young woman at the age of twenty-two — and she'd already lost her only child. She'd been disowned at the age of twenty-one, and really didn't have anyone but Bud and Aunt Betty to depend on. Bud always promised her that he would be the first one to come to her aid if he received word that she needed him.

"Bud, no," she whimpered. "She — she can't be gone."

"C'mon, Rose. Let's go back t' the house," Bud spoke softly, glancing at the grave one last time before leading his older sister away from it. He led her down the hill and to Aunt Betty's porch, where she wailed. Bud wrapped his arms around her tightly, swallowing the lump in his throat while he fought against his own tears.

It wasn't right for a man to cry in public. It meant they were weak and soft. Bud had always hated that assumption — that just because a man or boy cried in public, they were weak. In Bud's mind, the strongest people were the ones who did cry in public.

"I want her back."

"I know," he whispered. "I know you do."

_And you'd still have her if it weren't for me, _he added in his head. Bud wouldn't dare to say that aloud; everyone was starting to come down the hill again.

"I want my baby," Roseanna cried.

"I know, Rose, I know. But... but she's not sufferin' anymore," Bud tried to comfort her, tried to repeat the words that had been uttered to him to bring him reassurance. "She didn't d'serve t' die, though."

A single tear rolled down Bud's face. He swiftly wiped it away, sniffing and fighting to keep his composure.

It was a cold day for it to be mid-October. Autumn days were usually a little warm, sort of like a spring day, but on this day, it wasn't. Dark clouds loomed overhead, giving the impression of impending doom. Bud's eyes flicked back toward the mountains, noticing how it looked like it was going to storm.

"Wanna get inside? Looks like a storm's comin'."

"Ya gonna leave me?" Roseanna peered up at him with red-rimmed eyes, her face paler than a ghost's.

"No, I ain't gonna leave ya," he promised. "I'll stay right with ya as long as ya want me to."

"Best prepare t' be with me all day, then."

Bud wiped the tears off of Roseanna's face and gave a weak smile. He opened the door and allowed her to go in first, following behind her.

Aunt Betty came out of the living room. She'd stayed at home due to the steepness of the hill, and had promised that the house would be ready for guests once the funeral was over. And it was.

Bud followed his sister to the living room and sat down beside her, spotting the cradle in his peripheral vision. It was in the same spot it had been the day Sarah Elizabeth died.

"I couldn't throw it out," Roseanna uttered, trying to give some type of explanation for the cradle that wasn't needed. "It was hers. I can't get rid of it now, Bud. You understand, don't ya?"

"Yes, I understand, Roseanna. You don't have t' throw it out if ya don't want to."

"Why'd she have t' die, Bud?" Roseanna asked, her voice hoarse.

"I dunno, Roseanna," he answered, his voice trembling. He looked over when he heard someone enter, seeing Tolbert.

"Oh God, Rose, I'm so sorry," Tolbert muttered, his blue eyes filled with an emotion that Bud couldn't name. "She was right purdy, an' ya gave her a good life d'spite ev'rything that happened t' ya. I'm sorry you lost her so soon."

"I thank ya, Tolbert," Roseanna whispered.

Bud fished his handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her, watching her as she dabbed at her eyes. He looked at Tolbert, who knew that Bud was struggling with the loss as well. Tolbert walked over to them, crouching down and planting a kiss on Roseanna's pale cheek.

"I love you, Roseanna McCoy. You're one of the strongest women I know."

—

**_August 1882_**

Bud's heart sunk as the cold, dark feeling of dread washed over him. He'd done it again; he'd brought bad luck.

Their father had talked to Devil Anse. All they knew was that he'd gone to the house and on the way back toward the Tug, while they cried out to him and banged on the boards to the old barn they were held in at that point, he raised his hand before going on his way.

Bud lost all hope then.

Pharmer swore that Ran'l would come back. And even now, in an abandoned schoolhouse on Mate Creek, Pharmer still swore that Ran'l wouldn't abandon them.

But Bud knew better. Despite being the youngest of the three, he felt that he was the only one with enough sense to be realistic at the moment. The other two were holding onto every shred of hope that they could, but Bud knew how it was going to end.

They were going to die. Bud was involved in it, the token of bad luck of the McCoy family. There was no other outcome for it. They were going to die and it would be his fault.

He'd had a sinking feeling in his gut the entire day. He'd felt the terrible sense of impending doom, and now he understood why. He and his brothers were doomed. If — well, _when _they returned home, they wouldn't be doing so alive.

The Hatfields weren't going to let them return home alive whether Ellison died or not. Their goal was to kill as many McCoys as they possibly could, and Bud knew they weren't stupid enough to let any of them go free. Not even the one who hadn't stabbed or shot Ellison.

If they did offer that, he would turn it down. He knew how it would end — they'd shoot him in the back like the yellow cowards they were. Bud wouldn't care to tell them that if the opportunity presented itself, but he doubted it would.

Bud should have stopped that fight. He was strong enough to stop it and he hadn't; he'd encouraged it by joining it.

"When ya think Poppy's goin' t' git us?" Pharmer nervously glanced at his brothers.

"Poppy ain't gonna do squat," Bud spat before Tolbert had the chance to give an answer to him. "He _can't. _He don't even know where we are! Better spend yer time prayin' 'stead of waitin' for Poppy t' show up."

"_Bud!_" Tolbert shot him a warning look. "Don't ya talk that way. We're gonna get outta this alive—"

"_How? _How are we gonna get outta this alive when you two morons stabbed him over n over, an' then ya shot him?! So tell me, Tolbert, _how are we gonna get outta it?_"

"Poppy'll go t—"

"Poppy, Poppy, Poppy! All you're hopin' for is Poppy! Poppy can't do anything! He's gonna get himself killed if he goes a-lookin' for us. Him n anyone else that's with him. I'd rather die than have Poppy die 'cause he was tryin' t' get t' us."

Tolbert and Pharmer fell silent, both gazing at the boy who had tucked himself in the far corner. If Bud was scared, he wasn't letting it show. Instead, he was giving the impression that he thought hoping they would make it out alive was stupid. Maybe it was, Tolbert didn't know, but he felt much better when he held on to the hope that they would make it out of that schoolhouse alive.

"Really think we have no hope, Bud?" Tolbert quirked a brow.

"I know we don't."

"Why?"

"I'm involved, ain't I?" Bud lifted his gaze and met Tolbert's. "I told ya before I ain't nothin' but bad luck, but ya wouldn't listen t' me. Now look where we are. All three of us 're gonna die. I'm sorry 'bout that."

"You ain't bad luck," Tolbert rolled his eyes, making his way over to Bud and sitting down beside him. "We'll be fine, you'll see."

"No," Bud disagreed, shaking his head vigorously. "I ruin everything. Nothin' bad happened t' either one of ya when I pushed ya away from me."

"Bud—"

"It didn't! I was close t' Roseanna and look at what happened t' her. She got disowned n shamed s' bad that she don't even go nowhere but t' the cemetery near Aunt Betty's. Got close t' Sarah 'Lizabeth n look where she is. She's _in the ground. _Still think I ain't bad luck?"

"You ain't. Ya can't help what Poppy did, and ya can't help that Sarah 'Lizabeth was poorly. She'd been poorly from the time she was born, Bud," Tolbert reminded him, though not unkindly. "Ya ain't bad luck."

"Well, I ain't got no good luck," Bud retaliated, shifting slightly. He tugged at his sleeve, his eyes focused on the floorboards. "Think they'll let Mama come see us?"

"Even the Devil's got a heart, Bud."

—

The next day was no better. There was no sign of Sally, no sign that Ellison was alive or dead. No sign that Ellison would live if he was alive. Just a bunch of Hatfields outside the schoolhouse carousing with each other, drinking moonshine and holding their rifles in case one of the boys got the notion to try to escape.

Bud had curled up beside Tolbert and used his shoulder for a pillow the night before, while Tolbert just leaned his head back against the wall. Pharmer had slept with his head on the table he was sitting at, which was where the other two moved to once they woke up.

Bud wanted to go home. He wanted to listen to his mother and father quarrel, he wanted to hear the laughter of Alifair and the younger children while they danced around and played with the dolls that Bud carved for them, he wanted to banter with Sally again. He hadn't done that in a while, not since the day they went to Pikeville together, and he longed to do it again.

He wanted to hear Missy howl in the middle of the night at absolutely nothing, he wanted to hear Calvin and Pharmer playfully fighting with each other in their room until one of them eventually surrendered. He wanted to hear his father pray again. He wanted to hear his mother pray, too.

"What's eatin' you up?" Tolbert's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Jus' thinkin'," he mumbled. Then, with his voice thick with emotion, Bud proclaimed, "I wanna go home."

"I know ya do." A slight pause. "I do too. That ol' room of ours don't seem s' bad now. Always complained 'bout wantin' a bigger room so both of us could have our own bed, but now that we're bein' held in a bigger room... well, havin' t' share a bed don't seem so bad anymore."

"Always wanted that, too," Pharmer piped up. "Me n Cal would get int' an argument n we'd have t' sleep in the same bed. Always thought it wa'n't right I had t' do that, but _God, _what I'd give t' do it now."

"I don't like it here. 'S too quiet. I sleep better when I hear Missy howlin' at absolutely nothin'. I know ev'eythin's alright that way. That I'm home n safe. I don't like bein' here."

"None of us do, Buddy," Tolbert gently squeezed Bud's shoulder. "Let's have some hope, though. Maybe a miracle will happen."

"At this point, we need a miracle," Bud remarked dryly.

—

The afternoon heat was sweltering hot and was even worse inside the schoolhouse. Bud wanted to curl up and die, just so he could escape the heat. At home, he could put a damp rag around his neck and it didn't seem nearly as bad, but being trapped in a schoolhouse with no water at all was absolutely miserable.

The boys were looking forward to the sun setting. That was when it became cool and bearable.

"Ya'd think those idiots would open a window or somethin' s' they could hear us," Tolbert grumbled, clearly agitated by the heat.

"They're too busy drinkin'," Bud huffed. "Lotta good they are as guards."

"But you bet as soon as one of us opened that door, we'd be shot dead."

"Nah, they'd let us run a bit. It's a game t' them, remember?" Pharmer quipped.

"Yeah, ya got yerself a point, Pharmer," Tolbert reluctantly agreed with him.

Bud rolled his sleeves up and unbuttoned the few buttons on his stained white shirt. He tugged at the collar, hoping it would cool him off a little.

"Why don't we know nothin'?" Bud asked softly. "If we're bein' held 'cause of Ell'son, why don't we get t' know what's goin' on with him?"

"'Cause it 'parently don't work that way," Tolbert replied. "We're McCoys; t' them, we're the demons. 'Stead it's the other way 'round. The Hatfields are the demons. They even got one here named Devil Anse; the patriarch, t' beat it all, an' he's as mean as the Devil, that's fer sure. We at least know not all of 'em are bad... Look at the ones that live on our side of the Tug. Like John, the deputy. He's a good man. Does his best t' do what's right, too. He don't care if you're Hatfield, McCoy, or even if ya ain't neither one. He'll arrest ya if he has to."

Bud pondered what his brother had said. To the Hatfields, the McCoys were the demons. To the McCoys, the Hatfields were the demons. Bud could see the reasoning for that since their Uncle Harmon had been murdered in cold blood by Bad Jim Vance, but he couldn't see where the Hatfields got that the McCoys were the demons. That is unless they use Bill Staton as an example, and that was self-defense.

Squirrel and Paris swore to him that it was. But Bud was often viewed as the gullible one in the family, so he didn't know if it was really self-defense or not.

Bud supposed he was gullible. He believed what he was told by his family, and he never questioned them. Not even when they told him that they hated him, or that they thought he was stupid, or when they said that he was worse than bad luck. Bud never had any qualms with believing what his family told him — or he didn't until he'd spotted Nancy talking to Johnse at the Election Day festival.

He hadn't told anyone, and if he wanted someone to know about it, it would have to be Tolbert and Pharmer.

"Know who Jonce Hatfield spoke to yes'day?" Bud spoke up, causing his older brothers to look at him expectantly. "Nancy McCoy."

"You serious? Nancy? Talkin' to a Hatfield?" Tolbert gaped at him.

"_Mhm. _Even gently touched his arm n said somethin' to him with that sweet smile o' hers," Bud nodded in confirmation.

Tolbert and Pharmer knew they could trust what Bud said — Bud couldn't lie if his life depended on it. If he told them he saw it, they knew it was true. Bud wouldn't ever lie to them (or even _attempt _to lie to them) so they had no problem believing Bud when he told them something.

"Seemed like he already knew her, too. Like they'd talked b'fore, y'know? I've never known Nancy t' be that nice with someone she didn't already know."

"I've never known Nancy t' be that nice with someone she does know," Pharmer remarked, earning laughter from his brothers.

All three of them knew it was true — Nancy just wasn't a nice person. She'd been bitter her whole life and she really didn't make it easy for any man to talk to her. That was why she was still unmarried. Bud and Tolbert had witnessed her fighting one of the men that had asked her to court him, and she'd even broken the poor man's nose.

Nancy might have been pretty, but she was a force to be reckoned with if you even looked in her direction without a good cause for doing so.

"Now, Pharmer," Bud's voice took on a mocking tone, "be nice. She's kin, after all."

"I don't care if she's kin or not. That woman is insane!"

That earned another round of laughter from the three brothers.

"I didn't tell ya s' ya could make fun of her," Bud chuckled.

"Well... we insult each other, it's what we do. Tough love," Pharmer shrugged nonchalantly.

"Yeah. If we get outta here n she hears what you said, you're gonna see what tough love is with a broken nose and a broken arm," Tolbert quipped.

Pharmer took a moment to consider Tolbert's words.

"Ya know, on second thought, this schoolhouse really ain't that bad. Right, Bud?"

Bud couldn't help but laugh at him. He hoped the happiness they had created lingered for a little while longer.

—

The solemn mood and the despair and hopelessness returned that evening. There still hadn't been a word on either Ellison or word that Ran'l was planning to raid West Virginia to find his boys, so the boys had no idea as to what was going on.

They'd kept the happiness alive for most of the afternoon and evening, joking and telling their favorite memories that ended with something terribly funny happening. (Tolbert's was the time that Bud ran into a tree — he'd been three years old and had been spooked by a coyote howling off in the distance.)

Now, sitting in the dark schoolhouse, the boys sat in solemn silence. None of them dared to break it, and the others were fine with that. They heard the Hatfields outside switching out for the night, and they knew that the ones that left would be back first thing in the morning.

"Hope they let Mama see us," Bud finally spoke up. "If no one else, I wanna see Mama 'fore they kill me."

—

Bud's wish came true — Devil Anse allowed Sally to come see them.

Bud had been overjoyed when she opened the door to that cursed schoolhouse, his face lighting up the second he realized it was her.

"_Mama!_"

She smiled softly at her sons as they all scrambled to their feet, moving to where they stood in front of her. Bud wouldn't have noticed Reverend Garrett if Tolbert hadn't said, "Not now, Reverend."

Bud had been so happy to see Sally that it seemed that no one else but her and his brothers existed at that moment. And when she started listing the things she'd brought, he grabbed an apple before sitting down at the window. He wiped it on his shirt and bit into it.

He listened to her while she spoke, listened to Pharmer as he practically begged her to tell him that Ran'l was on his way to rescue them. Bud had caught on when Sally first started talking that something terrible had happened.

And it was that terrible realization that made him realize that Ellison Hatfield died.

Bud nearly dropped the apple in his hand, and stood up, gazing at his mother with sorrowful eyes. They had no chance of living now. Ellison was dead, so why would Devil Anse let them live? Bud believed that Devil Anse really was the Devil himself; why else would he have it in his name?

Sally pulled his head down and kissed his forehead before placing her hands on his arms, giving him a soft smile.

_Oh God, _someone had lied to her. He knew that the instant he saw the hope in her eyes. He looked at his brothers, both of whom were fighting their own tears, and watched as his mother left.

"Someone's lied to her," Bud stated. "She thinks we're comin' home."

"Ya don't know that," Tolbert sighed tiredly.

"Ya didn't see it? That look in her eye? Tol, she thinks we're gonna live," Bud insisted. "She thinks we're gonna be alive the next time we see her, but we're not. The Devil won't allow that."

—

The cool water of the Tug felt nice against Bud's sweaty skin, but he knew that it wasn't a good thing that they were crossing the Tug with armed Hatfields surrounding them. He especially knew it wasn't good when Devil Anse _and _Bad Jim were both involved with it.

Bud was terrified. He'd thought of everyone he loved on the journey from the schoolhouse to the river, had even glanced at his brothers. Tolbert was his favorite brother. Pharmer — who was loved dearly — was the one he always turned to when Tolbert did something stupid or they got into an argument. Pharmer was also the one on the receiving end of Bud's many jokes, and it was mostly because Bud found his reaction to be hilarious.

But nothing was hilarious now. Not even the fact that death was right within Bud's grasp, and he was about to take it whether he wanted it or not. He'd proclaimed a little over a year ago that he wanted to die; that he wished the Hatfields would've killed him.

Bud was getting his wish.

He was tied to a pawpaw tree, right between Pharmer and Tolbert. He glanced at Tolbert, who caught his eye and tried to give him a reassuring look. He knew when Bud was scared and when he wasn't, and Bud was so scared that Tolbert feared he might've tried something stupid.

But he didn't.

He stood there and let them tie him to the pawpaw tree. He didn't fight; he complied and did everything he was told. And once the men who had tied them to the trees took their places, Devil Anse approached them.

Bud's chest tightened. Fear had him in its unforgiving grasp, and for a moment, he thought that maybe his fear would kill him before the Hatfields did.

"You boys understand what's gonna happen here?" A rhetorical question. He pivoted on his heel, facing Bud. "You understand _why?_"

His eyes flicked over all three of them. Bud hung his head low, refusing to meet his gaze. And he gave the order, "Make yourselves ready."

Pharmer reached over and grasped his hand, and that only resulted in more tears. And for a moment — silence. Nothing but Bud quietly crying, as he hadn't been able to hold it back.

Tolbert leaned his head back against the tree, swallowing thickly. Bud shouldn't be there, tied to that tree. He was an innocent child that hadn't done more than throw a few punches in that stupid fight. He was a seventeen-year-old child fighting a forty-one-year-old man that happened to die because of Tolbert and Pharmer's actions. Bud was innocent.

Bud's quiet sobs seemed to echo around them. God, he didn't _want to die. _Bud wanted to live. He wanted to live to see each of his siblings find the happiness they deserved in life. He wanted to live to see his father and mother live out the rest of their lives with peace and happiness.

He'd never doubted that he wouldn't live long enough to see the end of the feud. Bud had sort of expected it. The fight had started when he was just five months old, so why should he expect to outlive it?

"Aim!" Devil Anse raised his voice. Bud subconsciously squeezed Pharmer's hand, and Pharmer squeezed his in return. "Harden your hearts."


	13. I'm Here (Modern AU)

**_A/N_**  
**_Most dialogue in this one is in italics to represent sign language. Hope you enjoy!_**

—

**_March 2002_**

Ran'l had returned home from the war for the final time that morning. Sally and the children had been overjoyed when he walked through the door almost two weeks earlier than he was supposed to, Tolbert jumping into his arms. He'd hugged each of his children tightly and had kissed his wife (which earned several humorous reactions from their children), and he met his newest son.

He was a small baby at five months old and had been born completely deaf. The last time Sally had communicated with him overseas, she had told him that the doctor had said that Bud wouldn't ever be able to hear. And while it broke his heart that his youngest son wouldn't get to experience the joy of hearing certain things, Ran'l was glad he was alive.

He had been the one to name him, and he'd laughed so hard he cried when he learned that Randolph McCoy, Junior was born on the same day he was — October thirtieth. It had overjoyed him that he shared a birthday with one of his children, even if he was thirty-nine years older than Bud was.

He cradled the babe in his arms for a majority of the day, changing him when he needed to be changed, feeding him, just holding him close and staring down at yet another perfect little human. And while this one was going to throw the McCoy family on a ride they'd never been on due to his inability to hear, Ran'l didn't mind that at all. He'd fallen in love with him the second he laid eyes on him.

Sally had known that Ran'l would react that way; he had reacted the same way when he met Pharmer. Now, however, it was different. Sally could practically see the bond between the two; one that was instant and likely wouldn't go away. Or at the very least, Sally hoped it wouldn't. Ran'l needed one of his sons to practically glue himself to his side, to look up to him and admire him.

It wasn't that Ran'l was egotistical or selfish; he only wanted one of his sons to be close to him, to be his mini-me, for lack of a better term.

And Sally had no doubt that that role was going to go to Bud. Sure, Jim and Tolbert loved doing things with their father, but they were starting to get to the point that they would say no if he asked them to go do something with him. They wouldn't for a while now that he was home again, but once they'd adjusted to having him there with them, they'd start to decline his offers to take them places.

So when Ran'l woke up to his youngest son wailing in the middle of the night, he didn't complain. He just got up and shuffled to the crib, lifting him out of it before shuffling to the changing table. He changed him and pulled the onesie off of him, grumbling while he stumbled around in the dark to find where Sally stored the boy's clothes.

He found them in the bottom drawer of their dresser. He found what looked to be a light-blue onesie with a dinosaur on the front, and figured that it really didn't matter so long as the boy was clothed. So he made his way back to the table, carefully pulling the onesie over Bud's head and pulling his arms through the sleeves. He snapped it and lifted the boy, a soft smile spreading across his lips while he looked down at him.

"Ran'l?" Sally murmured groggily, pushing herself to a sitting position. "Wha're ya doin'?"

"He needed changed," Ran'l informed her softly. "I'm tryin' t' get him back t' sleep."

"Oh... want me t'?"

"Nah. You rest, Sally. Lord knows ya ain't had much of it the last five months."

Sally shot him a look.

"Oh, go back t' sleep. Ain't like I was sleepin' well anyways."

"A'ight. I thank ya, honey," Sally gave him a smile before laying down again. "I love you, Randall."

"I love you too, Sally."

—

**_November 2003_**

Ran'l looked down at his son, who was tugging on his pant leg. He sighed and picked the boy up, setting him on his lap before focusing on the papers in front of him again.

"Hey, Poppy," Tolbert greeted as he walked through the kitchen door, which led to the back of the McCoy property.

"Hey, Tol," Ran'l looked up at him. "How was yer day?"

"A'ight, I reckon. Same as always. Hey, Buddy," Tolbert ruffled the little boy's hair, earning a scowl and a grunt. "He in a mood?"

"He's pretty grumpy t'day," Ran'l chuckled. "Wouldn't you be if ya didn't know what was bein' said 'round ya?"

"True, but he's two, Poppy. I doubt he'd really understand what we talk 'bout anyways," Tolbert countered.

"That's not the point."

"Sure it is. So... he learnin' it?" Tolbert grabbed a bag of chips and sat down.

"Sorta," Ran'l nodded ever so slightly. "He's two, so it's hard t' keep him still."

Tolbert smirked in amusement. He'd tried to tell them that teaching Bud sign language when he was two was a bad idea, but they were so desperate to figure out what the boy wanted every time he cried or grunted to get their attention that they decided to try it.

They weren't really sure if Bud had actually learned anything yet, but they were working on it.

Bud rugged on Ran'l's shirt. Ran'l looked down at him, the boy gently tapping his lips. Ran'l recognized it as sign language and huffed a breath of relief.

"C'mon. We'll find ya somethin' t' eat, baby."

—

Bud had moved into Tolbert's room. He never slept in his bed, though. It was always Tolbert's. Tolbert didn't necessarily understand _why, _but he figured the least he could do was let the boy sleep with him. He would grow out of it eventually.

He didn't mind Bud sleeping beside him. While Bud couldn't say a word or even hear a single word Tolbert said, Tolbert still enjoyed the boy's company. He and Bud were close; the McCoy children had the habit of picking an older sibling to attach themselves to, and from the looks of it, Bud had picked Tolbert.

Tolbert didn't mind that at all. He loved having his baby brother around. Bud was his favorite brother and he wouldn't care to admit it.

So when Bud climbed up on Tolbert's bed, Tolbert only moved the covers so he could get under them. Tolbert wrapped an arm around him after he laid down, the little boy putting his head on his chest. He combed his fingers through Bud's unruly honey-brown locks of hair, the little boy humming and scooting closer to him.

Bud loved Tolbert. Tolbert hadn't cared that Bud started sleeping with him. He'd encouraged it, really, and Bud had never understood why. He didn't know his name, didn't know anyone's name yet, really, but he knew he would eventually. He was learning his own way of communication, had managed to tell his father what he wanted, and he hoped he caught on to the rest of it quickly.

—

Tolbert woke up to find Bud gone. He panicked and threw the covers off of him, scrambling to get up. He ran out of his room and grabbed hold of the banister, his hip barely missing it as he turned to go down the stairs.

He went to Ran'l and Sally's room, pushing the door open and finding his parents sleeping with a small child laying on Ran'l's chest. Tolbert heaved a sigh of relief. His head fell against the doorway with a soft thud, closing his eyes and breathing heavily.

"Tol? Whatcha doin'?" Ran'l asked groggily.

"He dis'peared on me. Scared me outta my wits," Tolbert responded with a breathless chuckle. "Right near had a heart attack, Poppy."

Ran'l chuckled.

"I'm goin' back t' bed. Night, Poppy."

"Night, Tolbert."

—

**_May 2006_**

Tolbert laid on the couch, a thick, fluffy blanket thrown over him. His mind was hazy and he was feverish, so he knew why Sally had forced him to stay home. She didn't want other kids catching whatever it was he had.

When Bud tottered into the room, his eyes landed on his brother immediately. He went over to him and gently poked his cheek, as Tolbert was lying on the far side of the couch and didn't see him come in. He blinked and focused on Bud.

_"Hi, Tolbert."_

Tolbert gave a small smile, moving his hands so Bud could see them.

_"Hi there. Didn't Mama tell you to stay away?"_

_"No."_

Tolbert huffed in amusement. He knew nothing could keep Bud away once he set his mind to it; he had his ways of sneaking around without being noticed. His downfall was the fact that he would make noise without realizing it. A grunt when he was trying to move something out of his way, something clanging or banging against the wall, a noise in the back of his throat when he succeeded at getting something open, and on occasion, humming.

Tolbert didn't know why he hummed, but he did, and he found it adorable despite the boy usually getting into something he wasn't supposed to. But at nearly five years old, he was getting better when it came to listening.

"Tolbert, baby, have you seen—" Sally cut herself off when she saw him standing in front of Tolbert. "—never mind."

_"Mama wants you."_

Bud's head whipped toward the doorway. He beamed at Sally and signed a greeting. She reciprocated and walked over to him, lifting him up and placing him on her hip.

"Reckon I shoulda told him t' stay 'way," she remarked as she headed for the door. "I'll send yer Poppy in later t' check on ya, baby."

"Mkay, Mama. Love you."

"Love you too."

—

Tolbert wasn't any better the next day. He'd opted to stay in his room, buried under four blankets. He hadn't moved other than the times he got up to run to the bathroom, but all he ever did once he was there was dry heave.

Ran'l had a day off, and he was taking care of him. He'd moved into Tolbert's room, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his fingers through Tolbert's mass of sweaty ginger curls. Tolbert hummed, his eyes fluttering closed.

He gagged. He groaned and shifted slightly. Tolbert clamped a hand over his mouth, his brows pinching together as bile rose in his throat. He swallowed thickly, taking a shaky breath.

"Y' a'ight, Tol?"

"Mhm."

"Sure? I'll go get somethin' if ya need t' throw up, darlin'. I don't care to."

"No, 'm okay," he forced the words out.

"You wanna go t' the doctor? Ya don't look s' good, son," Ran'l murmured.

"No. I'm a'ight, Poppy."

Ran'l sighed, continuing to pull his fingers through his son's hair. Tolbert hummed and opened his eyes again, looking up at Ran'l. Ran'l gazed down at him, his blue eyes scanning his son's face.

Tolbert's face was flushed. His skin was clammy, beads of sweat rolling down his pale face. His complexion matched a ghost's and he looked absolutely miserable.

They both looked toward the door when it opened. Bud slipped in, tears rolling down the little boy's face as he padded over to his father and his brother.

Ran'l was confused. He'd never seen his son look so upset. They'd put him in preschool and they were hoping it would work for him; they'd been told that they would be able to communicate with him, so Ran'l and Sally had allowed him to go to public school.

He ran straight for Ran'l, letting his father pick him up and set him on his lap. He shoved his face in Ran'l's chest, sobs passing through the boy's lips.

Sally came in the room behind him, sighing heavily. She looked at Ran'l and shook her head ever so slightly.

"We're not sendin' him back, Ran'l. I will not have him mocked for the way he has t' communicate," she stated firmly.

Ran'l sighed, cradling his youngest son against him with one arm while the other still played with Tolbert's hair.

"It's not like they've helped him any, Ran'l. They don't understand what he's sayin' to 'em. It was a teacher, Ran'l, not one of the kids. But the kids did it after she did."

"A'ight, we won't send him back," Ran'l decided. "We're just gonna have t' figure out how t' teach him what he needs t' know."

"We will. He learned sign language, didn't he? Our boy is smart. He can do anythin' he puts his mind to."

—

**_December 2007_**

Ran'l looked up when the office door slowly opened, finding his six-year-old son as he stepped inside. He closed the door and made his way to Ran'l, who had looked down at the papers on his desk again. He wasn't sure what his son was up to, and he wasn't going to stop his plan.

Bud pattered over to him, smacking his lips. Ran'l wasn't sure why he was doing that, but he didn't mind it. It was adorable. He kept smacking his lips together, pausing for a few seconds to lick them before starting to do it again.

Curious, Ran'l looked down at him, finding that the boy had plopped down on the floor and was messing with the bottom drawer. He breathed a laugh and shook his head, grabbing a notepad and a pen before nudging him gently. Bud looked up at him, seeing the notepad and the pen in his father's outstretched hand, and took it from him.

_"Thank you."_

Ran'l nodded slightly, smiling at him. Bud bit down on his bottom lip, taking hold of the pen and starting to draw. Ran'l went back to work, grabbing another pen and scrawling his signature on the bottom line of the paper in front of him.

He heard Bud make a noise. The boy was always making noise without realizing it, and it made Ran'l wonder if he would have been talkative if had he been able to hear and learned to talk. He reached down and ruffled Bud's hair, the boy looking up at him with a pout.

Bud stood up, pen and paper in hand, and gently tugged on the sleeve of Ran'l's flannel. Ran'l set him on his lap, letting the boy set the pad of paper down. He turned toward Ran'l and kissed his cheek, just as Ran'l always did to him, and happily went back to drawing. Ran'l moved his head a little and pressed a kiss to his son's temple.

Bud didn't acknowledge the man who entered the office. He looked at Bud, then to Ran'l, then to Bud again.

"Afternoon, Mr. Miller," Ran'l forced a smile.

"Afternoon. I came in t' place an order, Mr. McCoy. Should a child hear such business?" Mr. Miller sneered.

"Well, if he could hear, my answer would be yes," Ran'l drawled.

"Oh! I wasn't aware you had a child with a disability," the man remarked as he sat down.

That was when Bud noticed him. He looked up at him, then to his father before going back to what he was doing.

"Well, we think of it more as a quirk. It's jus' somethin' that makes him a little diff'rent than ev'ryone else," Ran'l shrugged lightly, brushing his son's hair out of his eyes. "Anyways, how can I help ya?"

—

When Ran'l and Bud went inside that evening, the first thing Ran'l did was change into an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. After that, he went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Sprite, and was less than shocked when Bud followed him back to his room.

He set the Sprite on the nightstand before picking Bud up and gently tossing him onto the bed, the boy smiling with his eyes shining brightly. He jerked and curled up when Ran'l started to tickle him, smacking at his father's hands while he tried to get away. Ran'l giggled and bent down, blowing a raspberry on his cheek. Bud scrunched his nose and huffed.

Ran'l got in bed, propping himself up against the headboard. And once his son was on his lap with one leg on either side of Ran'l, he covered them up, reaching and grabbing the remote before turning on the TV.

Bud placed his head on Ran'l's chest. He poked Ran'l, who brought his free hand up and started to massage his scalp. Bud hummed and sighed in contentment. He liked it when Ran'l messed with his hair; he liked it when Tolbert did it, too. Tolbert did it just like Ran'l did.

Ran'l glanced to his left, setting the remote on the nightstand before wrapping his left arm around Bud. He focused his attention on the movie that played, wishing that his son was able to hear. Bud couldn't watch movies and understand what was going on without subtitles and he hated that.

His son was intelligent; he had already learned to write, but the reading was taking a little longer because they didn't really know how to go about it. They weren't sure how they could _possibly _teach a child to read when he couldn't hear a word they said. It was a work in progress, though, and he was doing quite well with it, despite his parents being uncertain about the whole thing.

Ran'l hated that his son would never be able to hear. He hated that the boy had a good voice that he couldn't use because he couldn't hear. The most Bud ever did was grunt, hum, groan, make a noise in the back of his throat, and when he was sick, he'd moan miserably. But he wasn't even aware that he was doing it.

But they would make the best of it. Bud was happy and that was all that mattered.

—

Sally yawned as she entered her bedroom. Her eyes landed on her husband and her son, both of whom were sleeping soundly. Ran'l had one hand placed on Bud's back, the other lying by his side. His head was turned to the side, and Bud had his face pressed against Ran'l's chest, his lips slightly parted.

They both snored softly, Ran'l shifting slightly in his sleep.

Sally giggled quietly, carefully closing the door behind her before she shuffled to the other side of the bed and climbed onto it. She gently shook Ran'l's shoulder.

"Mm... wha'?" he mumbled groggily, blinking a few times to clear his hazy vision.

"Why don't ya lay down? Yer gonna kill yer neck if ya don't," Sally told him, struggling to hide her amusement.

"Mm... Hold him a minute."

Ran'l passed the sleeping boy to Sally, which made him wake, but he didn't care. Ran'l laid down and turned onto his side, letting Bud curl up against him. Bud was asleep again in less than five seconds.

Sally breathed a laugh and laid down, turning to face her husband and son.

"So, you gonna keep stealin' him from Tolbert?" Sally asked, her voice holding a teasing tone to it.

"I ain't stealin' him," Ran'l rolled his eyes. "He's my son. An' I ain't gonna tell him no if he wants t' come in here."

"I know," Sally smiled softly. "You love him too much. Ya spoil him, Randolph McCoy."

"I don't spoil him," Ran'l laughed.

"Yes, ya do. You know ya do."

"I spoil all of 'em, Sally."

"I know. Believe me, I know when ya let 'em sneak somethin' sweet. It makes them hyper."

"They're kids," Ran'l shrugged lightly. "Let 'em have fun while they can. They'll have t' deal with the real world soon 'nough. Reckon I can hope Bud won't have t' deal with it, but I know he will. He does every time he goes somewhere. He don't see it, but I do, an' I never draw 'tention to it 'cause I know it'd hurt him that people mock him."

"When he was in public school, it wasn't that they mocked him. That wasn't what made him cry. It was the fact that she was mad at him, and the other kids were all pointing and laughin' at him. She was down in his face, screamin' that he was fakin' it an' he'd better stop if he knew what was good for 'im. I happened t' walk in on it and took him right outta there. People don't seem t' understand how hard it is for him. He won't ever get t' do things like other people."

"That's why he's got us. We're the ones that takes care of him n protects him the best we can. That's our job."

"He's happy. He always is when he's with you or Tolbert."

"He's happy 'round ev'ryone else too. He loves bein' 'round you n Rose n Alifair. He's always wrestlin' with Cal n Pharmer. 'S funny t' watch 'em when they lose."

"You're supposed t' stop them when they fight," Sally tried to suppress a laugh.

"They're siblings, they're gonna fight. The girls did it all the time. So did Jim n Tolbert. Let 'em have fun. They don't hit each other hard 'nough for it t' hurt."

Sally groaned exasperatedly. Her husband laughed, leaning forward and pecking her lips.

"Git some sleep, Sally. I love you."

"Yer lucky I love you, Ran'l."

—

**_June 2009_**

Bud curled up against Tolbert's side, his older brother keeping one arm wrapped around him tightly. Tolbert played with Bud's curly hair, Bud's left arm laying on Tolbert's torso.

Tolbert tapped his nose, making him blink and move his head back a little. He craned his neck to look up at him, huffing. Tolbert laughed and did it again. Bud smacked at his hand, much to his older brother's amusement, and nuzzled against Tolbert's chest.

Ran'l came into the room, dressed in a red t-shirt, a pair of dark jeans, and his sneakers.

"C'mon, Tolbert, up ya get."

"What for?" Tolbert looked at him strangely. He knew he didn't have to work.

"We're goin' fishin'. Bud's goin' too. Jus' the three of us."

"A'ight," Tolbert shrugged, getting up. "Give me a minute to change. Y' care t' take Bud n change him? He's still in his pajamas."

"Yeah. Find him somethin'."

Ran'l sat down in front of Bud, the boy gazing at him curiously.

_"We're going fishing. You're coming too."_

Bud smiled. He liked going fishing.

Ran'l caught the shirt and shorts that Tolbert threw at him, and he nearly got hit in the head with one of the shoes that were thrown carelessly over Tolbert's shoulder.

"You hit me with a shoe an' I'll be sure t' drown you in the lake."

"Sorry, Poppy."

Tolbert knew Ran'l didn't mean it. His father always made threats but he never went through with them. Well... he didn't unless it was something to do with their behavior or their grades.

Ran'l gathered the clothes and stood up, jerking his head toward the door in a motion to follow him. Bud slid off the bed and followed his father down the hall to their room. He and Sally had moved upstairs after Jim moved out, giving Alifair and Roseanna the room downstairs. Trinnie and Addie shared the room across the hall from Ran'l and Sally, and Calvin and Pharmer shared the one across from Tolbert and Bud.

Bud pattered into the room, smacking his lips again. Ran'l had learned that Bud found it funny when someone did it while looking at him and that he'd keep doing it as long as he could. So when Ran'l did it, he made sure to pull funny faces to make him laugh. Well... he didn't laugh — he smiled. And at a certain point, he couldn't smack his lips together due to smiling so widely.

Ran'l tapped his shoulder and bent down on one knee, setting the clothes down beside him. Bud turned around to face him, still smacking his lips while Ran'l unbuttoned his shirt. After sliding it off of the boy's shoulders, Ran'l stood up.

_"Get dressed."_

Bud nodded and did as he was told. Ran'l moved and grabbed a duffel bag, knowing he'd have to take a spare change of clothes for Bud and a couple of blankets for him to sit on since he didn't like sitting on the hot metal benches. Ran'l never blamed him for that. He usually opted to sit on the ground as well.

He felt Bud tugging on the hem of his shirt, and turned around, finding him with his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. He realized then that Tolbert had given him the shorts that had to be buttoned, and he knew that Bud couldn't button it on his own. He tried but his fingers would slip and he couldn't. Ran'l buttoned the shorts and sighed as he looked at his son's terrible case of bed head.

He grabbed the comb off the dresser and bent down, combing the boy's hair, much to his chagrin. Bud grunted and tried to move away from him, but to no avail. Once his hair was combed, Ran'l leaned forward and blew a raspberry on his cheek. Bud ducked his head, a smile on his face.

Ran'l kissed his cheek. It was how they told him that they loved him without signing it. Bud reciprocated the gesture and grinned at his father.

_"I love you, Poppy."_

_"I love you too, Buddy."_

—

The sun felt nice against Bud's skin. He was sprawled out on the blanket his father had spread out for him, his arms thrown over his head with his eyes closed, basking in the warmth the sun provided.

Tolbert nudged Ran'l, muttering, "Ya might wanna get the sunscreen. Bud's layin' in the sun n it don't look like he's gonna move anytime soon."

Ran'l looked over at him and laughed, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen out of the bag (he brought it for the boys — they both burned terribly if they didn't use it) and headed over to him. He sighed and sat down beside him, poking his side.

Bud turned his head and opened his eyes.

_"Stand up a minute."_

Bud huffed and did as he was told. Ran'l applied the sunscreen on the boy's arms and legs, letting him sit down before putting it on his face and neck. He combed Bud's hair back with his fingers, moving his bangs out of his eyes. His hazel eyes shine brightly and he blinked a few times, scrunching his nose when Ran'l tapped it.

He got up and went back to his spot beside Tolbert, tossing him the bottle.

"Ya best put it on. I don't want you moanin' an' groanin' 'cause ya get sunburnt," Ran'l told him. Tolbert shot him an unamused look.

"I don't moan n groan."

"Whatever ya say."

—

**_November 2009_**

"Hello?"

"P-Poppy," Tolbert sobbed into the phone, wiping at his eyes.

"What's wrong, Tolbert?" Ran'l's voice took on a concerned tone, making his son cry harder. "Tolbert? Son, ya gotta talk t' me."

"I need — I need t' talk t' you. Y' busy?" Tolbert stuttered.

"No, I ain't busy. You comin' here or do I need t' come t' you?"

"I'll come t' you, Poppy. I'll — I'll be there in a few minutes."

"A'ight, son. Do me a favor n breathe."

"Mkay. Love ya."

"Love ya too."

Ran'l sighed as he hung up. He didn't know what was wrong with his second-eldest son, but he figured he would find out as soon as he got there.

—

Tolbert made his way to the house after asking his brothers where their father was. Apparently, Bud was sick and Ran'l was taking care of him while Sally took Alifair and Roseanna to an eye doctor appointment.

Tolbert took the stairs two at a time, his hand grabbing the banister as he swung to turn to the right once he'd reached the top. He went into the bedroom, finding Ran'l sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling his fingers through the little boy's hair.

"Poppy..."

Ran'l's eyes flicked over to him and he nodded before telling Bud he'd be right back. Tolbert followed his father down the hall to his room, his heart thundering against his chest. He wanted help with it, but he didn't necessarily want to tell his father that there was something wrong with his head either.

"What's the matter?" Ran'l asked softly, his blue eyes gazing at Tolbert.

Tolbert reached in his coat pocket, pulling out the bottle he'd just picked up from the pharmacy. He handed it to Ran'l, his breath catching in his throat while he tried to force back his tears.

"Lithium?" Ran'l's brows knitted together. "What're they givin' ya that for?"

"Bipolar depression," he answered so quietly, Ran'l barely heard him. Tolbert lifted his gaze and Ran'l could see the heart-broken expression in his eyes. "I got somethin' wrong wit' my head, Poppy."

Ran'l sighed and pulled his son into a tight embrace.

"You do not have somethin' wrong with yer head," Ran'l stated, rubbing his back. "I'll help ya, a'ight? I'll even keep it b'tween you n me if ya want me to, Tol. I won't say nothin' ya don't want me to."

Tolbert's chest collapsed with a broken sob, him clinging tightly to his father. Ran'l held him and shushed him, trying to calm him down.

"I don't — I don't want it, Poppy," he muffled into Ran'l's shoulder.

"I know, darlin'. No one ever wants it," Ran'l murmured.

"It ain't right, Poppy! I — I got somethin' wrong with m' head."

"No, ya don't. Ya don't have anythin' wrong with yer head, Tolbert."

"Yes, I do," Tolbert argued weakly.

"Ya don't, son. Matter o' fact, yer perfect. Yer perfect jus' the way ya are, Tolbert. I don't care if ya got bipolar depression or not. You are _perfect._"

Tolbert began to argue that he was far from perfect, but he and his father were interrupted by Pharmer.

"Jim sent me up t' tell ya there's somebody who wants t' see ya, Poppy. Says it's a Mr. Miller," Pharmer informed him, the nine-year-old innocently allowing his eyes to flit between Tolbert and his father. "Why's ya cryin', Tol?"

"Don't worry 'bout it, honey," Tolbert sniffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "I'm fine."

"Do me a favor n take care of Bud for a few minutes," Ran'l mumbled, shoving the bottle back in Tolbert's hand.

"Okay, Poppy. What's wrong with him?"

"Ah, just a stomach bug. He'll be fine in a day or two."

"'E's real hateful, though," Pharmer piped up.

"Wouldn't you be if ya couldn't tell people what ya wanted while yer sick?" Tolbert quirked a brow.

"Reckon so," Pharmer shrugged.

"You best go back outside. We don't need you gettin' sick too." Tolbert gently hit the back of his head while he walked past him.

"Mkay, Tol."

Tolbert went into Bud's room, closing the door behind him. He walked over to the bed, taking off his shoes and coat before climbing on it.

_"Hey, baby."_

Bud smiled lazily and moved his hands to where Tolbert could see them.

_"Hey, Tolbert."_

Tolbert put the back of his hand against Bud's forehead, humming in displeasure. Bud blinked owlishly at him, scooting closer and burying his face in the crook of Tolbert's neck. Tolbert wrapped his arms around him, bringing one hand up and massaging the back of Bud's head. He sighed in contentment, nuzzling against Tolbert's neck.

Bud shifted a little, pulling his head back. Tolbert kept his gaze on him, watching the boy gently tap his cheek. Tolbert's brows furrowed. Bud repeated the action and Tolbert caught on, bending down and pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. Bud nuzzled against him again, laying his left hand on Tolbert's bicep.

Bud had been sick for about two days now, and he was so accustomed to being able to kiss everyone on the cheek when he wanted to that it was killing him. Ran'l and Sally had explained why he couldn't, and it made him feel a little better about it, but they still kissed him like nothing was wrong. So Bud took what he could get, and he didn't mind it as much as he thought he would.

Tolbert rubbed his back, the little boy humming and somehow managing to scoot closer to his older brother.

"You can't hear me, but I love you," Tolbert muttered, pressing a kiss to the top of Bud's head. "I love ya a whole lot, baby."

—

**_October 2014_**

On Bud's thirteenth birthday (and Ran'l's fifty-second birthday), Ran'l had planned to take his son out. Unfortunately, he'd been informed by Sally that Tolbert had already called to say that he'd be stealing him that evening, and that meant that Ran'l had to take him out that afternoon.

The problem with that? Bud was still in bed.

So Ran'l made his way to Bud's room, turning the light on before crossing the room, as he had his curtains drawn and there was no light streaming through the window.

On Bud's bed was a lump under a heap of blankets. It had been rather cold the night before and the furnace had been uncooperative with Ran'l, so he was going to have to fix that. Until he could, everyone was sleeping under a pile of blankets. He didn't think anyone could beat Bud when it came to the number of blankets, as the boy practically froze if he didn't have at least three on a night when the furnace worked, so he had quite a few piled on top of him.

Ran'l could see the way the lump rose and fell every few seconds, and he chuckled and shook his head. Ran'l was going to have to get the furnace fixed before Bud accidentally suffocated himself under his blankets.

He made his way over to him, bending down and gently shaking Bud's shoulder. Despite sleeping under a mountain of blankets, Bud still wore a tank top and a pair of shorts to sleep in. Ran'l didn't necessarily understand that logic, but he never questioned it.

Bud stirred and made a noise in the back of his throat, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He licked his lips and yawned, moving his arms and stretching them above his head. He rolled onto his side facing away from Ran'l, who quickly caught his shoulder. Bud rolled over again, his head turned toward his father.

_"Hey, Buddy. Get up, we're going out."_

Bud blinked a few times, his face pinched in a confused expression.

_"Why?"_

_"It's your birthday," _Ran'l reminded him. Realization dawned on his face. Bud shoved the mountain of blankets off of him and shivered as he got up, stumbling and latching onto his father's arms. He smiled sheepishly, his cheeks turning a vibrant pink as he released his grasp and shuffled to the dresser.

Ran'l left the room, knowing that the boy would come downstairs once he'd changed. He grabbed his keys, earning a look from Sally.

"What?"

"Nothin'. Don't spoil him, Ran'l."

"_Sally, _I ain't gonna spoil him," Ran'l rolled his eyes. "I'm jus' takin' him out, lettin' him do what he wants to. He don't get out much, Sally. I use every excuse I can t' get him out of the house."

"I know you do. He's started to notice what people do. He's figured out that they're mockin' him, Ran'l. That's why he don't wanna go nowhere anymore."

"I know," Ran'l spoke softly, leaning against the counter. "I can understand little kids. They don't know what sign language is or anythin' like that, but it really shocks me how many adults make fun of him n say he's fakin' it. I'm real glad he can't read lips. I doubt he'd leave the house at all if he could."

"Mm... I dunno. He's got you in his corner. That's all he needs t' be happy."

"He needs ev'ryone in this crazy fam'ly of ours. He wouldn't know what t' do without one of us."

"I know, Ran'l. He loves you n Tolbert the most, though. That boy lights up like a Christmas tree anytime he's near you or Tol," Sally pointed out. "He's in the doorway, by the way."

Ran'l turned toward him, smiling and bidding Sally goodbye as he walked over to him, throwing his arm around the boy's shoulders. Bud chewed on his lower lip while they walked to the truck, looking at his father once they'd gotten inside.

_"Where are we going?"_

_"Anywhere you want."_

Bud blinked, shocked by the response. _He _got to pick where they were going? That was new to him.

_"Where do you want to go?"_

Bud shrugged. He honestly had no idea. He'd lived in eastern Kentucky his entire life and it was like he'd never been there before. He couldn't think of anything.

_"Southside Mall in South Williamson?" _Ran'l suggested. _"We can get ya some new clothes or whatever and then go eat. Or we can go to Pikeville. It's up to you."_

Bud thought about it for a second. He hadn't been to South Williamson in a while... Maybe he had a better chance of not being mocked there.

_"South Williamson."_

Ran'l nodded and started the truck, backing out of the driveway and heading toward South Williamson.

—

Bud looked over at Ran'l, who watched the boy with idle curiosity as he looked through shirts. He'd decided to do what his father suggested, and so far, he hadn't found anything that he liked.

But Ran'l was fine with standing there, watching his son sort through the shirts in front of him. He was chewing on his lip again. Ran'l had noticed it was something he did often, and it usually meant he was either bored or stressed. He wasn't sure which one it was at the moment.

He looked over at his father, who raised an inquisitive brow at him.

_"I can't find anything."_

_"Want to try a different store?"_

Bud thought on it for a second.

_"Sure."_

Ran'l and Bud left the store they were in and wound up in a shoe store. Bud's sneakers were worn out and if he kept them much longer, the soles would be nonexistent. Ran'l threw his arm around his son's shoulders, the boy tucking himself against his father's side.

He didn't like going out in public. When he went out, he was always mocked for the way he had to communicate. It made him feel like he was stupid and he didn't like it. He didn't like the way his heart sunk every time someone pointed at him, he didn't like the sinking feeling in his stomach when he saw them laugh, and he didn't like the blow to his chest when they started to make gestures with their hands. They were never real gestures for sign language and Bud wanted to tell them so, but they wouldn't understand him.

He'd gone to South Williamson with the hope that it wouldn't happen there. He wasn't sure if it would, but he was hoping it wouldn't. It hadn't happened yet and Bud was still wary that someone might mock him.

It wasn't like he chose to be deaf; he didn't like not being able to hear.

Ran'l gently smacked his arm, pulling him out of his thoughts. Bud came up to his father's shoulder now, and he was quite proud of that. He'd grown quite a bit in the last year, and Ran'l knew it. Bud had gone from standing at his chest to his shoulder in a matter of weeks.

Bud shook his head to clear it of his thoughts, stuffing his hands in his pockets while he scanned the area for the sneakers he liked. He preferred Nikes or maybe Adidas or Sketchers if they happened to be a design he liked. Bud liked the black Nikes best.

He walked down an aisle, stopping when he found the Nikes he liked. Ran'l was right behind him, his eyes scanning the shelves. He never bought anything when he took Bud out, but he didn't mind admitting that he did browse while Bud tried to find what he was looking for. Bud wasn't small like he used to be, and he was adamant about doing it on his own.

Four out of the five McCoy boys ended up being Mama's boys. They were still mountain men, prided themselves as such, but they were as sweet as could be anytime they were around their mother. They did anything she asked them to, loved her and admired her, and one of the four was Sally's favorite.

The only exception was Bud. He was Poppy's boy. He clung to Ran'l's side and looked up to him, did anything and everything Ran'l wanted him to do. Wherever Ran'l went, Bud was usually right there with him. Anytime Ran'l pulled his fingers through Bud's hair, or rubbed his face or back, or even just scratched his scalp, Bud practically melted at the touch and became the little toddler he'd been a few years before. He'd curl up against Ran'l and end up drifting off to sleep, and he'd stay there until he woke, whether it be morning, afternoon, or evening.

Ran'l never minded it; he liked spending time with Bud. He grunted when the boy jabbed him in the ribs, looking over at him, seeing him smile innocently.

_"What was that for?"_

_"What?"_

Ran'l shot him an unamused look.

_"I found them. You ready?"_

_"Yeah. Come on."_

_—_

After stopping in a few more shops, Bud decided he wanted to go to KFC. There was one right down the road from the mall, and Ran'l didn't mind it. They hadn't been to KFC in a while, and if that was what Bud wanted, that was where they'd go.

Bud had managed to find a few shirts and two pairs of jeans in another store. Ran'l wasn't sure how to get it through the boy's head that he would buy him more than three shirts, two pairs of jeans, and a pair of shoes, but he never forced him to get more than what he gave him.

Pulling in the parking lot, Ran'l could see the light in his son's eyes. Thus far, not a single person had mocked him, and he was having a good day. Ran'l shut the engine off and sighed as he unbuckled his seatbelt, noticing Levicy Hatfield and Cotton Top, who was Ellison's son.

Ellison was really the only Hatfield Ran'l got along with. Anse wasn't too bad, but Ran'l preferred to hold a conversation with his younger brother. He and Ellison had met in Pikeville and West Virginia several times, always had a pleasant conversation, and it always ended up being about their children. Ellison would tell him how Cotton was, and Ran'l would tell him about Bud. They seemed to have that in common — their children were a little different, and they were often mocked for it when they went out in public.

Ran'l figured that either Anse and Levicy, had offered to take him out with them or that Ellison was with them.

He and Bud got out of the truck. He waved to Levicy, who returned the gesture with a small smile.

_"Who's that?_" Bud asked, curiosity shining in his hazel eyes.

_"Levicy Hatfield. She lives in West Virginia."_

Bud nodded as his father opened the door for him. Ran'l followed him inside, looking down at him before they stopped where Bud could see the menu. The boy hadn't had the slightest idea on what he wanted, and Ran'l had assured him that they could stand back so he could choose.

Ran'l's back was turned to the tables. Bud stood in front of him, signing quickly and excitedly. He thanked his father and told him that he was excited to spend the evening with Tolbert, but somehow managed to cut himself off mid-sentence, his face falling while he gazed over Ran'l's shoulder.

_"What's wrong?"_

_"Nothing, Poppy."_

Deciding to try to bring him out of the glum mood he'd fallen into, Ran'l reminded him that he still hadn't told him what he wanted. Bud nodded and focused on the menu that hung on the wall behind the cashiers.

"Randall? That you?" Ellison Hatfield's voice came from beside him.

"'Deed it is, Ellison. What're you doin' on this side of the river?"

"Deliverin' lumber n helpin' Levicy n Anse run errands. I thought you went t' Pikeville."

"Usually I do," Ran'l chuckled. "But my boy wanted t' go t' South Williamson, so..."

"That's Bud?" Ellison pointed at him. Ran'l laughed and nodded. "Well, I do 'pologize for my nephews a-mockin' him. Sometimes I wonder if them two got a brain in their heads."

Ran'l's gaze snapped to his son, who gently tugged on his sleeve. After telling his father what he wanted, he asked who he was talking to.

_"Ellison Hatfield. Why didn't you tell me they mocked you?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"He says he's sorry they did. Ellison won't make fun of you."_

Bud looked at the man. He was tall and pleasant looking. He had reddish-brown hair and a beard that matched, and his eyes gave off the impression that he was a friendly person. He had a ball cap placed on top of his head, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. Much to Bud's surprise, he pulled out his hands.

_"Hello. My name is Ellison. What's yours?"_

Bud blinked in shock and looked at Ran'l, who patted the boy's shoulder before moving to order their food.

_"Bud."_

Ellison already knew that, but Bud didn't know that.

_"It's nice to meet you."_

_"Nice to meet you, too."_

Ellison smiled softly at the boy, catching sight his two nephews out of the corner of his eye and their shocked looks.

_"I apologize for them. They can be idiots sometimes."_

Bud smiled and laughed silently.

_"It's okay. I'm used to it."_

_"But you shouldn't be, Bud. You can't help the way you are, and I think you're great."_

_"Thank you. You're really nice."_

Ellison laughed a little, his eyes flicking up when he saw Cotton enter the restaurant again.

_"Thank you."_

_"You know Poppy?"_

_"I do. Your father is a good man."_

Bud nodded. He agreed with him on that. Ran'l was a great man that dealt with more than he let on. Bud knew it was hard for him to deal with his youngest son being deaf, but Ran'l never once complained, and he'd never been mean to him.

_"How old are you, Bud?" _Ellison asked, taking a guess by the boy's appearance.

_"Thirteen. Just turned thirteen today."_

_"That right? Happy birthday."_

_"Thanks." _Bud smiled sheepishly.

_"You're welcome. And again, I'm sorry for them. I smacked them for you, though. It was nice meeting you."_

_"Nice meeting you."_

Ellison walked off, rejoining his family. Randall returned then, handing his son a cup full of Pepsi. Bud sipped it and followed Ran'l to an empty table.

_"I'll be right back, Buddy. Don't move."_

Bud nodded to show he'd been paying attention and took another sip of his drink. He looked out the window, watching the cars go by. He set the cup down on the table, just gazing out the window while he waited for Ran'l to return.

Ran'l returned, setting the tray in his hands between them while he sat down. Ran'l sorted the food, giving Bud what he ordered. Bud smiled and nodded, thanking him silently.

_"You wanna say grace?" _Ran'l looked at him.

_"I can't say it, Poppy."_

_"Alright, alright. I'll say it."_

As it was custom in their family so Bud would know when his father had finished saying grace, Ran'l grasped one of Bud's hands. They both bowed their heads, Ran'l saying grace before giving his son's hand a gentle squeeze.

Bud's eyes flicked up and met Ran'l's.

_"Happy birthday, Poppy."_

_"Thank you, Bud. I love you."_

_"I love you too."_

_—_

Tolbert whistled as he entered his parents' home, setting out to find his baby brother. It was likely that he was downstairs, as he doubted Ran'l was actually going to let him go upstairs when Tolbert intended to kidnap him on his birthday, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he was right when he saw his father and his brother curled up on the couch watching a movie.

Tolbert cleared his throat, startling his father, which in turn startled Bud. Bud got up after kissing Ran'l's cheek and hurried over to Tolbert, grabbing the backpack that sat against the wall.

"Well, I see someone's excited," Tolbert remarked.

"He's been lookin' forward to it all day. Ya best get him outta here 'fore he hits ya," Ran'l laughed.

"A'ight. See ya, Poppy."

Tolbert followed Bud out of the house and to his red Chevy Colorado. Bud climbed in it, and Tolbert did as well, starting the engine after buckling his seatbelt.

He threw the gearshift in reverse, backing up enough that he could turn around, and then shifting it into drive. He pulled out and went to his house, Bud looking over at him, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Tolbert parked the truck and turned it off, pulling the key out of the ignition before getting out. Bud was already ahead of him, and Tolbert wondered how the boy had possibly moved as fast as he did. He was halfway to the porch when Tolbert closed his door.

After joining him and unlocking the door, Bud entered the house. Tolbert was right behind him, closing and locking it.

_"Go put your bag up."_

Bud nodded and did as he was told. While Bud was busy with that, Tolbert went to his room, opening the door and flicking on the light. He sighed and looked around, grabbing the box off the nightstand and making his way back toward Bud. He had made sure that it was alright with Ran'l and Sally before buying it, and he sincerely hoped it would be something that Bud liked.

Tolbert grunted when Bud ran into him, looking up at him innocently.

_"Sorry, Tol."_

_"It's okay. Here."_

Bud's brows furrowed as he took the box out of Tolbert's hand. He peeled the wrapping paper off of it, revealing a box for an iPhone. At that, he raised a brow. Tolbert must've hidden something else in the box; why on earth would he get him an iPhone? He carefully opened the box, blinking in shock. Tolbert didn't fool him this year.

His gaze snapped up to Tolbert.

_"Like it?"_

Bud nodded. He closed the box again, keeping a tight hold on it while he threw his arms around his older brother, who chuckled before pressing a kiss to his temple. Bud sniffled and blinked his tears away.

He pulled out of the hug, moving and setting the box on the desk in his room before returning to Tolbert.

_"Why did you get me that?"_

Bud knew that iPhones weren't cheap. Why would Tolbert waste his money on it?

_"Because you need one. Mama and Poppy said I could get it for you, so I did."_

Bud hugged him again. It was easier this time, as he wasn't worried about dropping a box with a brand new phone in it, and he laid his head on the spot where Tolbert's neck and shoulder met. Tolbert wrapped his arms around Bud tightly.

The brothers stood there for a moment; neither one dared to move. Tolbert had heard about what had happened in South Williamson, and he knew that Bud was always a little depressed after he saw someone mock him, so he was rarely the first to release him from a hug.

Bud reached up and kissed Tolbert's cheek before taking a step back.

_"Thank you."_

The corners of Tolbert's lips turned upward.

_"You're welcome. You want to watch a movie?"_

Bud nodded, following his older brother to the living room.

—

Bud fell asleep not even halfway through the old action movie he'd picked. Well, it wasn't really old — it was made in the 90s, Tolbert thought, and Bud seemed to like it.

But he'd fallen asleep. Tolbert let the movie finish and turned off the TV, looking down at his baby brother, who was so close that he couldn't possibly get any closer. He stirred in his sleep, his right hand clenching the fabric of Tolbert's shirt.

Tolbert had learned that Bud met Ellison Hatfield and that he knew sign language. Tolbert had met Ellison once or twice before, but he didn't know that the man knew sign language. Ellison was the friendliest Hatfield that Tolbert had met — excluding Cotton Top and Levicy, whom he'd literally ran into at Walmart because he rounded the corner too fast — and he liked him.

Pulling his fingers through Bud's hair, he sighed and glanced up when he heard the front door open. It had to be one of the family; Tolbert only gave keys to them.

"Tolbert!"

_Pharmer._

"Yes, Pharmer?" Tolbert asked, raising his voice so he would hear him.

"Hey, Poppy n Mama are worried sick. Y'all wouldn't answer them," Pharmer laughed as he entered the room.

"Oh. My phone's in my room. We were watchin' some action movie he picked out. So please let them know I apologize."

"I will. We jus' wanted t' make sure y'all were alright."

"Yeah, we're fine. That all you wanted?"

"Yeah," Pharmer nodded. "Reckon I'll leave ya alone now. When's he comin' home?"

"I dunno, whenever he wants to, I reckon," Tolbert shrugged lightly. "Why?"

"Jus' wond'rin', Tol."

Tolbert didn't necessarily believe the (blatantly obvious) lie, but he didn't say anything. He only watched Pharmer take his leave and looked down at Bud again. He wouldn't move so long as the boy was sleeping.

—

**_November 2015_**

Bud sat in the office of the timbering company, organizing the files. It was the most Ran'l allowed him to do; act as a secretary until he was legally old enough to work for him. So when Ran'l explained why he wasn't letting him up around the mill, Bud understood and did his task without complaint.

He looked up when the door opened, the cold wind that blew outside sweeping through the office. A shiver ran down his spine.

_"Come on. You're going with me."_

_"Where are we going?" _Bud looked at his father strangely.

_"You'll find out when we get there."_

Bud playfully rolled his eyes at the response and stood up, pulling on his jacket. He didn't bother to zip it; he just followed Ran'l out of the office to the beat-up truck. He looked over at his father, who smiled softly at him.

It was the Monday after Thanksgiving, the last day before December began. Bud honestly had no idea as to where Ran'l could be taking him, but he didn't question it. If Ran'l was going to be so secretive about it, the most Bud could do was play along.

—

Ran'l glanced at his son, seeing that he was chewing on his lip. This time, he was certain it was because Bud was bored. With one arm on the wheel, Ran'l reached over and smacked his son's leg, allowing him to take his hand and draw imaginary patterns on the back of his hand. In his peripheral vision, he saw Bud look at him and smile before starting to trace an imaginary design on the back of Ran'l's hand.

Ran'l didn't mind it. It kept Bud occupied. He couldn't talk with him while he was driving, so he knew that he'd have to find _something _for his son to do.

Ran'l didn't see the vehicle that swerved across the road and t-boned them until it happened. It caused their car to roll over the hill. Bud looked absolutely terrified. And without thinking, Ran'l quickly signed, _"I love you."_

_"I love you too, Poppy."_

_—_

Bud woke up in a hospital room. His face pinched in a pained expression, his right hand being clutched tightly. His head lolled to the side, seeing Tolbert sitting there, Bud's hand in between his, pressed against his forehead. He had his elbows propped up on the bed, and it looked like he was crying.

He went to move his left arm and found it was heavier than usual. He lifted it and found a bright green cast on his forearm, blinking in shock. That was what made Tolbert notice he was awake.

_"Hey, baby. Are you hurting?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Alright. I'll go tell someone you're awake. Give me a minute, okay?"_

Bud nodded in response. Tolbert left the room, giving Bud time to remember what had happened.

He'd been with Ran'l and they'd gotten into an accident. The car rolled, and he'd lurched forward unexpectedly, cracking his nose off of the dashboard. He could remember Ran'l telling him he loved him, and he could remember telling his father that he loved him too. He'd grasped Ran'l's hand again, and the car finally stopped rolling after his wrist bent in a funny angle.

He could vaguely remember the paramedics. He remembered fighting one of them and had seen his father mutter something before he lost consciousness. Bud had tried to get him to wake, but he couldn't really move and had allowed the paramedics to pull him out of the car. He didn't remember anything after that.

_Where was Ran'l?_

Tolbert returned, a nurse in tow. She moved and started working with one of the machines. Bud waved Tolbert over, turning his hand over and signing letters against his palm.

_"P. O. P. P. Y."_

Tolbert's face fell. He didn't want to be the one to tell Bud what had happened to Ran'l. Bud had lived with the few injuries he had — a broken nose, a few broken ribs, and a broken wrist — while Ran'l hadn't made it. He'd been pronounced dead at the scene.

Catching sight of the nurse as she got ready to leave the room, Tolbert spoke up.

"Ma'am, I hate t' bother you again, but can you get our mother? She's the only one in the waiting room."

"Yeah, honey," she gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'll send her right in."

"Thank you."

Tolbert sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping hold of Bud's right hand.

_"Let me tell you what's wrong with you first."_

Bud pulled a face. Why wouldn't Tolbert tell him where their father was?

_"You have a broken nose, a few broken ribs, and a broken wrist. They said you'll make a full recovery."_

Bud hated signing with one hand, as it was always harder, but he supposed he'd get used to it for the next few weeks.

_"Where's Poppy? I want Poppy."_

Tolbert glanced over his shoulder as the door opened, heaving a sigh of relief as Sally entered the room.

"Mama, I don't wanna tell him," Tolbert whimpered.

"He askin' for him?" Sally asked, her voice raspy.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Mama..."

"It's alright, Tolbert. He's got t' know what happened."

Bud was watching them curiously and was growing wary. What were they keeping from him? Ran'l was fine, wasn't he? He didn't seem to be too hurt the last Bud remembered.

Tolbert turned toward him, biting on his lower lip.

_"Do you remember what happened?"_

Bud nodded. He remembered it.

_"Bud... the doctor said it was a miracle you made it out with the few injuries you have. Poppy wasn't so lucky."_

_"Where is—" _Tolbert caught his hand and lowered it down his side.

_"Poppy didn't make it, Bud. They pronounced him dead after they pulled him out of the car."_

Bud's heart shattered to a million pieces. He felt like he'd been punched in the chest, his chest heaving up and down while his brain struggled to process what he'd been told. _Ran'l was dead. _That meant he must've been dead when Bud tried to wake him.

His eyes flicked to Sally, who looked heartbroken. Tolbert gently took hold of his face, gaining Bud's attention again.

_"You should be released tomorrow. We're having the funeral on Friday, just in case they keep you another day."_

_"You're lying."_

Tears spilled onto Bud's pale face.

_"You're lying to me. Stop it."_

_"I wish I was lying, Buddy."_

He let Tolbert pull him into a hug, laying his head on his shoulder while silent tears rolled down his face. Ran'l was dead. Bud had likely distracted him when he was drawing imaginary patterns on the back of his hand, so it was his fault. A heartbroken sob tore from the boy's throat, Tolbert carefully wrapping his arms around him.

—

**_December 2015_**

Sally had opted to have the funeral at the funeral home. No one really knew why, and no one cared to question it, even though Ran'l always swore that he'd have his funeral at the church.

So the day of the funeral, dressed in black, Bud sat in the front row beside Tolbert. He mostly avoided the gazes he received and shook hands when he had to. Apparently, it was people giving the family condolences or something like that — the useless "I'm sorry for your loss" that never made the loss any easier.

And when he spotted Ellison's nephews, the ones who had mocked him the year before, he lowered his head. Bud had seen Ellison a few times since he first met him, and they always spoke to one another. Ellison was never anything but kind to him.

He saw people stand in front of him, but he didn't raise his head. He didn't even move. He felt Tolbert nudge him, but he ignored him.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's got into him," Tolbert apologized, gazing from Anse to Levicy to Ellison. "He seems t' be rude t'day."

"Don't be too hard on him, Tolbert," Ellison sighed. "He's still a kid."

"He's just grieving," Levicy added. "He prob'ly don't want to be bothered by people he don't know. It was nice t' see you, Tolbert."

"Nice seein' you, Miss Levicy."

—

Tolbert was livid. He'd never expected Bud to be so rude to people who were just trying to be nice. So when they got home — Tolbert was staying with Sally for a while until things got straightened out again — he caught the boy by his right arm before he had the chance to run up the stairs.

_"What the heck is wrong with you? You never act that way!"_

_"Nothing's wrong with me!"_

_"Clearly something is. That was rude, Bud! They were just trying to be nice to you!"_

_"Nothing I do is ever good enough for you!" _Bud let out a frustrated huff, tears blurring his vision before he started signing again. _"I hate you!"_

Before Tolbert even had time to react, he was running up the stairs. Tolbert flinched when the door slammed shut, knowing that Bud was locking himself inside it. He sighed heavily and looked to Sally, who said nothing and simply clamped her hand on his shoulder before going upstairs to change.

Tolbert took his black jacket off, shaking his head. He didn't know if Bud really meant what he said, but he wasn't too keen to find out the answer to that either.

—

It was close to midnight when Tolbert finally tried to get into the room. It was where he would be staying, as it was his old room and Bud had agreed to it when they made the plan. The only problem? It was still locked.

So he went and told Sally, who sighed before going to her room and pulling open the drawer, sorting through a small container full of keys. She snatched one out of it.

"Come on. I'll let him sleep with me t'night, give him some time t' cool off b'fore you two kill each other," she murmured, walking back toward the door.

Tolbert followed her like a lost puppy and leaned against the banister while she unlocked the door to Bud's room.

"Stay here for a minute. I don't want ya goin' at each other's throats."

"A'ight, Mama."

Sally pushed the door open and stepped inside, walking over to the bed and bending down, shaking Bud awake. He inhaled sharply and jerked his head back, blinking a few times so his eyes would focus.

_"Mama?"_

_"Come on, baby. You're sleeping with me tonight."_

Bud didn't argue; he got up and shuffled to Sally's room, not even noticing that Tolbert was in the hallway. He laid down on the bed, barely being able to stay awake to see what his mother was saying to him.

_"I love you, Bud."_

_"I love you too, Mama."_

Bud scooted closer, curling up against her with his head on her shoulder. Sally gently scratched his scalp, the boy humming as his eyes fluttered shut. He was too tired to fully comprehend where he was, and for that, Sally was grateful. The last thing she needed was her son bursting into tears after realizing he'd laid down on his father's side of the bed.

He dozed off, his left arm laying across her middle while his right was hooked under her shoulders, his hang laying in the spot where her neck and shoulder met, his palm pressed against her back. Sally didn't mind it. Her son was going through enough without her telling him he couldn't curl up against her.

Sally wouldn't ever tell him that. Sally needed comfort just as much as he did, and if anything, they could give it to each other.

Bud had been Ran'l's favorite; Bud was Poppy's boy. He had depended on Ran'l all of his life, and he'd been jerked away from him within a matter of minutes because of an idiot that decided to run a red light. It had left Bud with several broken bones and it had taken his father away from him.

Sally had always scolded Ran'l when she felt he was spoiling their youngest son, and he always argued that he wasn't spoiling him. "Lettin' him have a little fun ain't spoilin' him, Sally," Ran'l always told her before setting out on some adventure with him. That was what they'd been doing when they got in the accident.

Ran'l had been taking him to some museum that Bud had expressed an interest in that was located in another county — she couldn't remember which — and she'd told him he was spoiling him again. Ran'l had denied it with a laugh, giving her a kiss and telling her he loved her before he left. They'd both laughed when Fanny, their youngest, let out a disgusted, "_Eww, _Poppy!"

They always loved doing that for the reactions they got out of their children — even the grown ones. Tolbert had been standing there as well, and had sighed and shaken his head at it. "Ya get used to it, Fanny. The quicker ya do, the better off ya are."

But Bud seemed to be the only one that didn't mind it as much as the other children did. Maybe it was because they all expressed their love to him by kissing his cheek or his forehead, Sally didn't know, but she knew that Bud was the one out of their ten children that never minded it when his parents kissed each other.

Sally sighed, pressing a kiss to her sleeping son's forehead. It was going to be a long day tomorrow.

—

Bud was still sleeping when Sally woke up. Tolbert came into the room after rapping on the door with his knuckle, and seemed to be less than surprised that Bud was still sleeping.

"He sleep a'ight, Mama?"

"Yeah. He slept like a baby... still is."

Tolbert nodded and carefully closed the door behind him. It was mostly out of habit since they couldn't wake Bud no matter how much noise they made.

"Funny how he's never been a Mama's boy," Tolbert chuckled sadly while sitting on the edge of the bed. "Reckon now he's gonna have t' be."

"No," Sally disagreed. "He'll always be Poppy's boy. Jus' like you n the other boys will always be Mama's boys."

"Mama."

"Well, yer a Mama's boy, Tol. An' yer my fav'rite, too," Sally gave a sad smile. "But yer Poppy has you beat. He's my fav'rite man in the whole world."

"I don't think ya want me as yer fav'rite, Mama. Never know when I'm gonna lash out or hurt somebody," Tolbert stated, his voice shaking. He'd told Sally shortly after he'd told Ran'l, and that was only because Sally had been at his house and went looking for a washcloth and found Lithium instead.

"You're a good boy, Tol. Bein' a bipolar depressant don't mean a thing, honey."

"I hardly slept at all last night, Mama," he admitted, his voice no louder than a soft whisper. "Kept thinkin' 'bout what Bud said, then — then I got t' thinkin' 'bout Poppy and... _God, _I miss 'im."

And for the first time since he'd received the shocking news, Tolbert sobbed. He'd cried when he received the news, but then it was like his body sent him into a state of shock, and Tolbert hadn't cried at all for the rest of the week. And now he'd snapped out of it, and he was crying just like he had in the hospital.

"I know, baby. We all do," Sally forced the words out, her throat constricting while her eyes welled with tears.

Tolbert wiped at his tears, only to have his chest collapse with another sob. Sally took hold of his hand, rubbing her thumb across the back of his palm while he cried.

"'M-'m sorry, Mama. I'll g-go see if the chil'ren 're 'wake," Tolbert mumbled, bending down and kissing her forehead. "O-oh! Are we — are we gonna meet with Perry t'day?"

"Yeah. Ask him what time would be best. I would, but... my baby boy kinda has me t' where I can't move."

Tolbert let out a strangled laugh and nodded.

"I'll ask him n let you know. I'll see if he can come here, too. You can stay here as long as ya want, Mama. I'll take care of them."

"Mighty kind of ya, Tol."

"Gotta do somethin', right? I don't mind takin' care of them while ya take a few days t' yerself, Mama. You're the one that lost your husband."

"N the rest of ya lost yer father," she pointed out.

"That's true, but I'm not the one that's gonna be here when he wakes up this mornin'. You are. Ya know how hard it's gonna be t' get him t' calm down once he realizes he's on Poppy's side of the bed?"

"I've got an idea of it," Sally sighed. "I'll be down after he wakes up n calms down."

"A'ight. Love ya, Mama."

"Love you too, baby."

—

Perry had read the will, given each of them the envelope with their name scribbled on it in Ran'l's handwriting, and had left shortly afterward. Bud had disappeared after the reading of the will, and no one knew where he'd gone.

So Tolbert set out to find him. He found the boy sitting behind Ran'l's tool shed, his hound dog Missy laying beside him with her head on his thigh, whimpering and peering up at him. Bud stayed at the envelope in his hand, almost as though he was trying to decide if he wanted to open it or not.

"Missy, hush," Tolbert spoke up, crouching down beside Bud and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. He gasped and whipped his head toward Tolbert, his eyes flooding with relief once he saw who it was.

_"What are you doing?" _Tolbert asked, his blue eyes shining with concern. He'd already had one conversation with Bud that week about how it wasn't his fault — that Ran'l had driven plenty of times before while Bud drew little patterns on the back of his hand. And after convincing him that it wasn't his fault, Bud cried for an hour.

Bud set the envelope on his knee.

_"I don't think I can read it."_

Tolbert gave him a sympathetic look. He sat down beside him, letting Bud lean against him.

_"I want Poppy."_

Tolbert sighed and rubbed Bud's shoulder, planting a kiss on top of the boy's head. Bud lifted it again, his eyes focused on Ran'l's handwriting. Tolbert caressed his face, Bud leaning into the touch. It felt nice.

"Missy!" Tolbert chided when the dog started howling. "Go lay down somewheres. He ain't gonna pet ya right now."

Tolbert rubbed Bud's face with the pad of his thumb, the boy starting to cry again.

_"Come here, baby."_

Bud moved to where he easily buried his face in the crook of Tolbert's neck, Tolbert holding him and rocking back and forth slightly, letting him cry.

Tolbert knew that most people would find it ridiculous that a fourteen-year-old boy sat on his older brother's lap and cried, but they didn't understand Bud. They didn't understand how badly Ran'l's death had affected him. Ran'l was always the first person Bud went to, no matter what the situation was. And if he couldn't find Ran'l, he'd go to Tolbert.

Tolbert looked down at him when he clenched the fabric of Tolbert's shirt, Bud's chest caving with a sob. He took a deep gulp of air and coughed, his head still against Tolbert's shoulder, his forehead pressed against the spot where Tolbert's neck and shoulder met. Tolbert carded his fingers through Bud's hair, repeating the motion over and over again, trying to comfort the boy in some way.

Bud sat there and cried, clinging to his older brother as though his life depended on it. Tolbert didn't mind it; he knew how hard all of this was for him. He knew that Bud didn't fully understand everything because it was hard to explain it, and he knew that Bud didn't hear what the doctors said about it. He knew that Bud didn't know that Ran'l's last words had been to the paramedics who were trying to pull him out, and that they had been two simple words: _He's deaf._

Tolbert knew an abundance of things about the accident that Bud didn't know and it did bother him to an extent, but he was just glad that his baby brother had made it out with a few injuries. Ran'l's side of the car had been hit, it had taken the most impact, and that was why his father didn't make it.

Bud made a noise in the back of his throat. Tolbert's attention returned to him and found the boy peering up at him with red eyes. Tolbert moved his hand wiped the tears away before gently rubbing his cheek again. Bud closed his eyes, letting out a deep exhale. His hand came up, still holding the envelope, and covered Tolbert's. He made a quiet noise and leaned into Tolbert's touch.

Tolbert gave him a small, sad smile, moving and pressing a lingering kiss to the boy's cheek. Bud sniffled and blinked to clear his bleary vision, leaning up and doing the same to Tolbert. Tolbert moved his hand.

_"Do you want to go in now?"_

Bud nodded and stood up. Tolbert stood up as well, wrapping an arm around his baby brother before leading him back toward the house.

—

Bud sat alone in his room, an open envelope in his hand. He'd had Tolbert open it for him before he left to go take a shower, and was in the process of wrestling the paper out of the envelope. He hated only having one hand to work with because of the cast on his arm.

He finally managed to get it out and unfolded the paper, his eyes welling with tears the instant he saw his father's handwriting. But he had to read it. It was one of the only things Ran'l had left for him, and this was the one thing Bud wouldn't let anyone else touch if he didn't have to.

So he took a deep breath and composed himself before reading it.

_Bud,_

_When you were born, I was overseas in the army. I didn't meet you until March of 2002, but your mother had told me everything about you after you were born. (And I did, admittedly, laugh so hard I cried when she told me you were born on my birthday.)_

_When I met you, I instantly fell in love with you. You were my namesake, my youngest son, and you were a perfect little human. You were an angel, and you still are, Bud._

_I have no idea as to when you will receive this letter, but I'm hoping it's a long while from now. And if it's not, you still have your mother and Tolbert to depend on. I want you to be happy in life, I want you to be whatever you want to be when you grow up, and I'm hoping you're grown by the time you read this._

_But if you're not, know that no matter what happened, I love you. I love you more than life itself and I would do anything to keep you safe. Your safety is my priority; your well-being and happiness is my priority. I love you more than anything in this world, Bud, and you've always been my favorite._

_You're my boy — Poppy's boy, as your mother likes to call ya, and you make me proud, son. Every time you interact with someone who isn't family, I'm proud of you. Every time you take on a new task and find that you can do it with a little bit of work, I'm proud of you. No matter what you do or what you say, I will always love you and be proud of you. You're my pride and joy, my youngest son that will willingly do anything I ask of him._

_I ask that you keep living. Keep being the light that the family needs; keep making up stories for your sisters and giving them to your mother for her to read to them; keep loving with all your heart and all your soul, Bud. Don't stop living and don't stop loving people because of the hurt that comes with a death._

_I love you, Randolph McCoy, Junior._

Bud wiped at his eyes, setting the paper down and using his sleeve to wipe his nose. Tolbert returned then, finding his baby brother sitting in the middle of their bed, trying to keep from crying. He looked at Tolbert with sorrowful eyes, his hazel eyes full of grief.

_"Are you okay?"_

_"I'm fine. Did you read Poppy's letter?"_

Tolbert nodded.

_"Did you?"_

Bud nodded, clamping his right hand over his mouth. It muffled the sob that tore from his throat. Tolbert picked up the letter and folded it before putting it back in the envelope. He put it in the drawer of the nightstand before sitting down beside him, rubbing his back. It was going to be a long while before Bud even started to get better.

—

**_January 2016_**

Tolbert went back to his place around the middle of December. Bud had gotten used to having someone in his room, and he never complained when one of the younger girls came in and climbed on the bed, telling him that they were frightened and wished to sleep with him. And on nights when he felt that it was worse than usual, he slept with Sally.

On this night, he was alone in his room until the door creaked open. He thought nothing of it, as it was probably one of the girls, but quickly found that that wasn't so. Instead, it was Pharmer, who looked absolutely miserable. He looked the way Bud felt.

_"Can I stay in here tonight?"_

Bud nodded and scooted over, turning onto his side as Pharmer climbed into bed. He gazed at Pharmer, who turned to where he faced Bud.

_"Something wrong?" _Bud queried, his brow furrowed.

Pharmer burst into a sob. Bud panicked and pulled him into a tight embrace, his older brother sobbing into his shoulder. Bud had no idea as to what to do; he'd never seen Pharmer just _break _and it scared him. So he held him like Pharmer had held him before when he found him crying over Ran'l.

Bud rubbed his back, his left arm wrapped around Pharmer. He'd gotten the cast removed on the eleventh of January — precisely six weeks to date — and had replaced it with a brace. He didn't mind the brace; it wasn't heavy and it easily slid on and off of his arm.

Pharmer moved back a little, sniffling before moving his hands to where Bud could see them.

_"I got to thinking about Poppy."_

Bud's heart seized in his chest. Oh God, if he could only count the number of times he'd done the same exact thing Pharmer had done.

_"I understand. I do that all the time."_

_"I know. I just didn't want to bother Cal tonight and—"_

Bud reached up and placed his hand on top of Pharmer's.

_"You don't have to explain it. I understand."_

Pharmer nodded, scooting close to Bud again. Bud didn't mind it; he only rested his chin atop Pharmer's head, rubbing his older brother's back in an attempt to comfort him.

He understood how Pharmer felt. It was the same way he'd felt for the last month and a half, and Bud was starting to wish that he could just make it stop. Well... he was starting to wish that he wouldn't have been so lucky in the crash and that he'd received the same fate as his father. But he kept that to himself and pushed on, trying to help his mother and his siblings as much as he possibly could.

And Bud still didn't know where Ran'l had been taking him that day. Sally and Tolbert had made it plain to everyone that they were _not _to tell him that he'd been taking him to the museum he wanted to go to; it would only cause Bud to fall into despair again, but this time, with guilt added to it.

They wanted the boy to love history as much as he always had — or rather, the parts of history that he loved — and they wanted him to still go to museums whenever he had the chance. Bud would go in a museum for one specific exhibit, and by the time he left, he'd learned so much just by wandering around that he felt he might explode.

And so far, not a single person had told Bud where Ran'l had been taking him. Maybe it was because Tolbert told them not to, and they all feared Tolbert and his hot-headed temper. Bud didn't, but every other member of the McCoy family — excluding Sally — did.

Bud ducked his head and kissed Pharmer's forehead. God, he wished he could hear so Pharmer could talk to him. He knew how bad it hurt after you just started thinking about it and couldn't stop and ended up crying for what felt like hours. He understood every bit of it.

Pharmer leaned up, pressing a kiss to Bud's cheek.

The McCoy boys thought nothing of kissing their baby brother. It was just something that was done to express their love for him, and he expressed his love for them that way. Bud never saw the stares in public if he ever pecked Ran'l's cheek, or Tolbert's, or anyone in his family that wasn't a small child. They made sure he didn't see those, always making a distraction and getting him to look the other way before he could see it.

They were protective of him, and often put someone in their place if they had the audacity to say something about a fourteen-year-old kissing his brothers and sisters and his parents. Tolbert and Jim certainly didn't care to, and as of late, Pharmer didn't care to either. Calvin never managed to get a word in before someone else did, as he was usually the one distracting Bud.

Bud never understood why his brothers looked so frustrated, but he didn't ever question them. He never wanted to make it worse for them, so he kept it to himself.

But now, to think that he was the one giving one of his older brothers comfort, was something that was unfathomable to him. Bud couldn't be very good at it; the only thing he could do was hold Pharmer in a tight embrace and hope that rubbing his back would help. That was what they did for him, and it usually helped him calm down. Bud didn't know what else he could've done to give him comfort, so he would keep on with what he was doing.

—

After Pharmer awoke the next morning, Bud went to Sally's room. He wanted to talk to her, and he knew that she wouldn't be fully awake yet, so he would go to her.

Entering her room, he found that she was awake, but she seemed to have just woken up. She smiled when she saw her youngest son and waved him over, allowing him to climb on the bed beside her. Bud planted a kiss on her cheek and laid on his side, watching as Sally turned over. She reached forward and kissed his cheek.

_"Morning, Mama."_

_"Morning, baby. What do you want?"_

_"Just want to talk to you."_

Sally smiled softly.

_"And what have I done to deserve such an honor?"_

Bud rolled his eyes exasperatedly while Sally laughed at him. Sally did her best to keep her son as happy as she could, even if it was making remarks that would earn an eye roll.

_"That ain't funny."_

_"Sure it is. You feeling okay?"_

_"Yeah. Pharmer slept with me last night."_

_"Oh, did he? Is he okay?"_

_"I think so. He just did what I do... he thought about Poppy."_

Sally knew her children were hurting. She tried to help all of them the best she could, but she was hurting as well, and she couldn't precisely do anything if they didn't come to her. But Bud didn't seem to mind that they went to him. He enjoyed the company, and he'd even slept in Sally's room on nights she didn't wish to be alone. She didn't know how he knew that, but she never stopped him.

_"Are you okay?"_

_"Yes, Mama. I'm okay."_

_"Good." _She reached up and ruffled his hair. _"I want my babies to be happy."_

_"I know. Are you okay?"_

_"Yes, Buddy. I'm doing just fine."_

Bud smiled at that.

Sally's attention shifted to the door when it opened. Bud followed her gaze, seeing Fanny as she shuffled into the room.

"Mama, 'm hungry," she grumbled, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand.

_"What did she say?" _Bud looked genuinely confused.

_"She said she's hungry."_

_"Oh. I'll go fix her something, Mama."_

Sally gave a huff and kissed his cheek again. Bud got up, lifting Fanny and placing her on his hip before leaving the room.

—

Bud wasn't sure he could cry anymore.

He'd somehow managed to make Calvin mad at him, and he'd been told plainly exactly what happened to Ran'l and where they'd been going.

_"It's all your fault, you idiot! Poppy was taking you to that stupid museum you wanted to go to. And you know what his last words were? "He's deaf." Even when he's dying, he's focused on you!"_

Bud flinched and backed away, his back hitting the wall behind him. He didn't know, _he didn't know. _Why did no one tell him?

An anguished look appeared on his face. A single tear rolled down his pale face, his brunette hair falling in front of his eyes.

_"I hate you, Bud! I hate you more than anything! Sometimes I wish Poppy would've hated you, too! He'd still be alive if he did."_

Bud supposed he deserved that. After all, he was the reason Ran'l died, wasn't he? Oh _God, _he was the reason Ran'l died.

Bud went upstairs to his room, closing the door before moving and grabbing a bag, stuffing it full of clothes and sliding his laptop in it as well. He moved to his bed and set the bag on top of it, texting Tolbert and asking him to pick him up. Bud didn't want to stay there anymore.

He didn't have the right to stay under the roof Ran'l had lived under when he was the reason why he was dead. Bud didn't _deserve _to stay. What he deserved was to be buried six feet under the ground.

His eyes shifted to the door when it opened, seeing Pharmer and Jim. His eyes flicked back down to the floor, waiting impatiently for Tolbert to arrive.

_"Bud, what happened?" _Jim had crouched in front of him so he could see him.

_"Nothing."_

He saw Jim sigh. Bud didn't think it was right that everyone else had to suffer because of him. It was all his fault, why did they have to suffer over something he caused?

_"Where are you going?"_

_"Tolbert's."_

_"Why?"_

_"I want to."_

That seemed to appease him. Jim patted his knee and stood up just as Bud got the text that Tolbert was outside waiting for him. He bid his brothers goodbye and rushed out after grabbing his phone charger.

He ran down the stairs and wrenched open the door, stepping out and closing it. He made his way to Tolbert's truck, opening the door and climbing in.

_"Are you okay?"_

Tolbert's concerned gaze made Bud feel awful. He didn't deserve that. But he nodded anyway, giving his older brother an answer while he turned to reach his seatbelt.

—

Tolbert knew that something was wrong with Bud. It wasn't like his baby brother to text him without warning asking him to pick him up. He knew that something must've happened, but it was taking longer than he thought it would for him to coax it out of him.

He hadn't seen Bud look so depressed since the day Ran'l's will was read. He'd managed to get him to a point where he was happier than he had been, and he'd been pretty happy up until now. So _what happened?_

It was like Bud wasn't even there. He wasn't talking to Tolbert like he usually did; he'd just curled up in Tolbert's armchair, his forehead resting against his knees, and he cried. Bud was trying to distance himself again, and Tolbert wasn't going to let him.

So without as much as a second thought, Tolbert picked up a pillow and threw it at him. Bud's head jerked up, revealing his bloodshot eyes, but he didn't react to it after that. His eyes flicked down to the floor and he stared at it, a forlorn expression crossing his face.

Tolbert had had enough. He moved to where Bud could see him, sitting on the floor in front of him.

_"What's wrong, Bud?"_

Bud shook his head vigorously. He couldn't tell him, he couldn't! Tolbert would hate him if he ever figured out that Bud was the one to blame for Ran'l's death.

_"Bud, honey, you're scaring me."_

Bud's throat constricted and he suppressed a sob, staring down at Tolbert. Tolbert reached up, placing his hand on Bud's cheek. Bud flinched away from him. He couldn't tell Tolbert and lose him too. It was bad enough to have Calvin hate him.

If Calvin knew, did that mean Sally knew as well? Did Sally hate him too? Did she really hate it when he came into her room and slept beside her, on Ran'l's side of the bed, and tried to comfort her? Did she only press a kiss to his cheek because she felt like she had to? Did she wish he was dead too?

Bud's breathing started to become labored. He felt Tolbert grasp his hand, his blue eyes filled with concern as he gazed at Bud, who slid out of the chair and curled up against Tolbert, throwing his arms around him. He had Tolbert. He would have Tolbert so long as no one ever told him what happened. He hoped that no one ever would; Bud needed _somebody, _and if the only person he had was Tolbert, then he'd get through it.

But if he lost Tolbert, Bud wouldn't have anybody. Bud wouldn't want to live if he lost Tolbert as well.

Bud closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. He hadn't known that he was the reason Ran'l was dead. If he had, he wouldn't've bothered anybody. He wouldn't have tried to comfort the others, he wouldn't have bothered his mother, and he certainly wouldn't ask Sally and Tolbert to take him out to the cemetery. Bud didn't deserve to be able to go; _he was the reason he died._

A sob tore from Bud's throat, his head laying on Tolbert's shoulder. Tolbert held him, trying to comfort the boy. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but he held him close to him and rocked back and forth, trying to help him.

Tolbert bent down and kissed Bud's cheek, the boy whining as he shoved him away. Bud kicked himself away from Tolbert, his back hitting the wall.

Tolbert looked at him, his eyes full of hurt and his jaw slack while he observed his little brother. Bud had never done that before, and it _hurt. _It hurt more than he cared to admit. Bud's eyes stayed locked with his while he curled up in the corner, his chest heaving with deep, heavy breaths. Tolbert could see the fear in Bud's eyes.

_"Bud, what's wrong?"_

Bud shook his head.

_"I can't tell you."_

Tolbert's face contorted to a bewildered expression.

_"Why not?"_

_"I don't want you to hate me."_

_"Hate you? Why would I hate you?"_

_"I can't tell you. I promise, Tol, I can't tell you."_

Tolbert stood up and walked over to him, bending down and picking Bud up. Tolbert carried him down the hall, going to his room. Bud looked at him strangely when Tolbert passed Bud's room, but he didn't complain when Tolbert took him to his room.

He set him on the bed before going back and closing the door. He turned and looked at Bud, who lowered his gaze. Tolbert sighed as he walked over to him, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor before getting on the bed and lying down, letting Bud put his head on his chest. He adjusted the blankets and glanced at him, a wave of sympathy washing over him when Bud did nothing more but lay his left arm on Tolbert's torso.

Bud wasn't acting right.

Tolbert was trying to figure out what could have happened, but he wasn't able to come up with anything. He knew that he'd gotten Bud to the point that he'd go to someone when he started feeling the way he did when it first happened, and he knew that the girls and Sally thoroughly enjoyed the boy's company when they slept beside him.

Sally had told him that Bud somehow knew when she didn't want to be alone. She said that he would show up in her room and ask to sleep there, and she never said no. She also said that the girls had gotten through it a lot better because Bud let them sleep with him in his room, and he never once complained about it.

So what had happened to him? Bud wasn't acting like himself at all and it scared Tolbert. He supposed he'd have to ask Sally if she knew what was wrong with him.

—

"Mama?"

"Yes, Tolbert?" Sally's voice filtered through the speaker.

"D' you know what's wrong with Bud?"

"What d'ya mean, honey?" He could hear the confusion in her voice.

"He's actin' strange. He's depressed again n I asked him what was wrong, an' he said that he can't tell me 'cause he don't want me t' hate him. I don't know what's wrong with him, Mama."

"No, I don't know what it is. I'll ask your brothers; they'll prob'ly know. Last time I saw him, he was fine. And that was when he got up t' go make Fanny somethin' t' eat this mornin'."

Tolbert didn't understand it. Bud had been fine the day before, had even insulted Tolbert before he left. Bud had been fine then, so what happened?

"A'ight, Mama. Let me know if ya find out, will ya?"

"Yeah, baby. I'll let ya know what I find out. I love you."

"I love you too."

—

Bud jerked awake, gasping sharply. In a blind panic, he kicked and shoved himself away from Tolbert, who groaned when Bud kicked his ribs. He reached over and turned the lamp on, finding his baby brother on the other side of the bed breathing heavily, his eyes wild with panic.

Tolbert shifted and gently placed a hand on Bud's bicep, the boy taking a sharp breath before realizing who it was. He blinked a few times, still breathing heavily, realizing that it was all a dream.

_"I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?"_

_"No, you didn't hurt me, Buddy. What's wrong?"_

_"Just a nightmare, Tol."_

_"Okay. You wanna talk about it?"_

_"Not really."_

Tolbert nodded, carding his fingers through Bud's thick locks of hair. Bud hummed and scooted a little closer, but not so close that he was curled against him again.

_"Are you okay?"_

Bud nodded. He was fine, he really was. He'd gotten to where he could ignore the pain in his stomach and he was trying to figure out how he could go about keeping the fact that he was responsible for Ran'l's death a secret.

_"If you tell me, I promise I won't hate you."_

Bud didn't believe that. Tolbert would hate him if he told him. Tolbert would likely kill him if he found out Bud hadn't eaten since the day he left, too. So really, Bud felt like he had good reasonings for keeping things to himself.

_"Alright. Try to get some sleep, Buddy."_

—

"Hey, Mama," Tolbert greeted after opening the front door. "C'mon, he's still sleepin'."

Sally sighed as she entered Tolbert's home, glancing around.

"He say anythin' last night?" she questioned, walking behind Tolbert while he led her to Bud's room.

"No," he sighed, opening the door and hitting the switch. "He seems convinced I'm gonna hate him if he tells me what it is. And here's somethin' I don't understand, Mama. He brought clothes with him. Look at this."

Tolbert moved to the dresser and pulled out each drawer, revealing the clothes inside it.

"He's got clothes here, Mama. He knows that."

Sally sighed, noticing that the bag Bud had brought with him was thrown carelessly on the bed, a few articles of clothing laying on the bed. She picked up one of the shirts, recognizing it as one that Ran'l had bought him.

"They're the clothes your Poppy got him," Sally realized, tossing the shirt to Tolbert. "Oh God, it must be gettin' bad again. Remember when all he'd wear was the clothes your father bought for him? He can somehow remember who bought what."

"I don't know what's wrong with him, Mama. He's never been this way before. You'll see what I mean when he gets up. He's just..." Tolbert bit down on his lip while he tried to think of the word to describe his brother. "He's just... _different, _ya know? He's completely different from what he was the other night."

Sally sighed as she pulled out Bud's laptop, noticing how he'd just stuffed everything in the bag. She knew it had been folded in his dresser at home. So she sat on the bed and pulled it out, catching the shirt that Tolbert tossed back to her. She recognized it as the one that Ran'l had had custom made. It was a white t-shirt with _Lalala, I'm not listening _written on it. Bud had found it hilarious and wore it almost every time he went out in public.

Despite everything, Bud had an amazing sense of humor. There were times, without thinking, Sally would ask him if he was listening to her and his response would be: _"I can't listen, Mama."_

So to have her carefree son so downhearted all the time was really disheartening. She was used to Bud pulling pranks on his brothers, who would yell and scream until they turned red in the face before going after Bud, who had likely hidden somewhere in the house. She was used to Bud making up stories and giving them to her to read to the girls, who always liked Bud's stories. They never once disliked one. She was used to Bud being happy all the time.

"He'll come around event'ally," Sally spoke up, pulling herself out of her thoughts. "Just give him a day or two. He'll be fine, you'll see."

"Mama... ya'd have t' see him t' understand it," Tolbert argued meekly. "He's not okay."

"Well, none of us are, Tol. It's — your brother will be fine. He's grievin' just like the rest of us, an' it seems t' be takin' its toll on him. I worry for him, I do, but I trust him. He'll come t' one of us eventually. You have t' trust him."

"I do trust him. He woke up last night an' started fightin' like a crazy man. Kicked me in my ribs n when he got t' the other side of the bed, his eyes were absolutely _wild, _Mama. Somethin's wrong with him. Ya sure the boys don't know nothin'?"

"Pharmer don't, neither does Jim. Cal says he don't but I think he knows more than he's lettin' on," Sally voiced her opinion on the matter. "Pharmer n Jim were tryin' t' get it outta him when he left yesterday. Reckon Bud's just got himself in a mood n he ain't willin' t' talk t' no one."

"Maybe..." Tolbert muttered, looking up at his mother. "I'm sorry, Mama, reckon I jus' worry too much."

Sally laughed quietly and shook her head.

"N Bud's givin' ya plenty of reason t' worry."

"Ain't that the truth."

"Try talkin' to him when he gets up. Find out if he's sick too, will ya? Fanny said he wouldn't eat nothin' yesterday, and said he said his stomach was hurtin'."

"A'ight, Mama. I'll let ya know what I find out. You just gonna fold clothes the whole time yer here?"

"It drives me crazy, Tolbert, you know that."

Tolbert laughed heartily at that.

"I'm gonna go check on him."

—

Tolbert looked up as Bud shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. He sat down on one of the barstools at the kitchen island, Tolbert raising an amused brow.

_"Hey, Buddy. You want something to eat?"_

_"No."_

Tolbert blinked. Bud had to be sick. Tolbert knew his brother; knew how much he actually liked Tolbert's cooking (and he was the only one who'd ever gotten the chance to try it), so he knew the boy had to be sick. Tolbert rounded the island and sat on the barstool next to Bud, turning to where he faced him.

_"Are you feeling okay?"_

_"I'm fine."_

Tolbert placed the back of his hand on Bud's forehead. He wasn't running a fever. His brows knitted together in confusion.

_"You sure?"_

_"Yes, Tolbert. I just ain't hungry."_

_"Any reason for that? I know you didn't eat yesterday."_

Bud glanced up at him and averted his gaze, closing his eyes and letting out a deep, shaky breath. If he had to admit to something, he would rather it be that he hadn't eaten for a month. He was starting to lose weight and it was becoming a little noticeable, but no one ever said anything to him. It couldn't have been that noticeable, then.

_"Please don't get mad."_

_"Why would I get mad?"_

_"I haven't ate since you left."_

Tolbert gaped at him.

_"You haven't ate in over a month?!"_

_"No."_

Tolbert felt like he'd been punched in his chest. Bud wasn't eating. He hadn't been eating since December fifteenth, and it was now January sixteenth. Bud hadn't eaten for a little over a month.

_"Why haven't you been eating, Bud?"_

_"I ain't been hungry."_

_"You ain't been hungry? Bud, it's been over a month!"_

_"Don't get mad!"_

_"I'm not! How are you still going?!"_

_"I don't know."_

_"You've at least been drinking, right? You're not dehydrated on top of being starved?"_

_"Yeah, I've been drinking. That's all I do. Food just don't seem appetizing anymore."_

_"Bud, you can't stop eating. Let me make you something to eat."_

Bud looked at him, his eyes pleading with him. But a defiant streak crossed them.

_"And what are you going to do if I don't?"_

_"I'll tell Mama ya haven't ate for over a month. She'll force you to eat if she has to feed you herself."_

Bud paled.

_"Fine."_

Tolbert heaved a sigh of relief. He knew he'd have to make something that wouldn't make the boy sick, so he got up and scrambled around to find what he needed to make some soup. Bud liked vegetable soup, and Tolbert would make it if it meant Bud would eat.

Bud tapped Tolbert's hand when he returned to the kitchen island, setting what he'd found down. He looked up at Bud, whose eyes glistened with tears.

_"I'm sorry."_

Tolbert let out a breath, his gaze softening.

_"Don't be. You want to help?"_

Bud nodded. Tolbert moved and grabbed the cutting board and a knife, setting it down in front of Bud before grabbing one of the carrots that laid in front of him.

_"Watch what I do, then you can do it. Okay?"_

_"Okay."_

—

Bud anxiously chewed on his lip, his eyes flicking over to Tolbert every few seconds. _God, _he wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him that everything that had happened was his fault and that he had no idea how to fix any of it. He wanted to tell Tolbert everything since he'd taken the conversation that morning rather well.

But there was still the chance that Tolbert would hate him after he told him. Bud didn't want Tolbert to hate him.

He couldn't decide if it would be best to tell him or not. If he told him, there was the chance that Tolbert would try to help him with it, but there was also the chance that he would despise him. If he didn't tell him, Bud would have to find some way to deal with the guilt on his own while he tried to tell everyone that he was fine.

Tolbert hadn't gotten mad at him that morning... maybe he could tell him about what Calvin had told him without Tolbert despising him. Maybe he could tell him and everything would be okay. Bud knew he needed to talk to someone, but he wasn't sure _who. _Calvin hated him, he was pretty sure Sally was getting tired of him sleeping in her room and clinging to her as though he was a toddler, and he was almost certain anything he told Pharmer or Alifair would directly go to Sally. Then there was Tolbert.

Tolbert might understand, and then he might not. He might have sworn that he would hate Bud until the day he died, or he might've helped him through whatever it was he was feeling.

He had Roseanna too. His older sister who had moved out recently and had told him that she would always be there for him no matter what. He wasn't sure if Roseanna was capable of hating anybody, as she was always so kind and sweet to every person she came in contact with, so Bud had a good chance of not being hated if he told her what was said.

Bud jumped when Tolbert poked him.

_"Sorry. Are you okay?"_

_"Yes. I'm okay."_

Tolbert nodded and planted a kiss on Bud's temple.

_"Tolbert, can I go to Roseanna's?"_

_"Sure. You want your stuff?"_

_"Yeah. I'll be right back."_

_—_

Roseanna had received a text telling her that Bud was coming over. So when she heard a knock on the door, she thought nothing of it and opened it. Bud stood there, bag in hand, biting on his lip.

Roseanna ushered him inside, closing and locking the door behind him. He went and put his bag in the guest room before returning.

_"I need to tell you something."_

Her brows furrowed and she tilted her head slightly.

_"You can't tell anybody."_

_"I won't. Why don't we sit down first?"_

Bud nodded and followed her to the living room. They sat down on the couch, Roseanna reaching forward and grabbing a hair tie off of the coffee table and pulling her hair back in a ponytail.

She knew that her brother hadn't eaten for a month. Tolbert had sent her a text — one that Bud didn't know about — explaining that he hadn't eaten and recommending that she didn't feed him anything but soup and _maybe _stew. He knew that if Bud got sick after eating something that he would stop again.

So she knew it wasn't that. Bud had told Tolbert about that, why would he want to tell her? Roseanna knew it was something worse than him not eating, and that terrified her.

_"What's going on, Buddy?"_

Bud bit down on his lip, his eyes flicking up and meeting her's for a moment.

_"I don't know how to say it."_

_"Try."_

_"I know where Poppy was taking me that day. He was taking me to the museum that I showed him. The history museum I found online, you know?" _He looked up at her to see her answer.

_"Yes, I know what you're talking about. Go on."_

_"I didn't know that until yesterday. I didn't know Poppy's last words were "He's deaf" either. I swear I didn't know. It was my fault Poppy even got the idea to go to Louisville. So in a way, it's my fault. In a sick, twisted way, all of this is my fault. It's my fault Poppy's dead because I showed him that stupid museum."_

Roseanna stared at him in shock for a moment.

_"Oh God, honey, no. It wasn't your fault. None of it is your fault. You like history, it interests you. There's nothing wrong with wanting to go to Louisville to a history museum, and Poppy was more than willing to take you. It wasn't your fault, Bud."_

Bud shook his head.

_"Yes, it is! It is my fault. I wish Poppy would've hated me when he was alive. If he had, he'd still be living."_

_"Bud!" _Roseanna's eyes widened. _"You quit saying things like that!"_

_"Well, it's the truth, Roseanna! Or at the very least, I wish Poppy wouldn't have died. I wish I would've died instead, or that I would've died too. Either one is fine with me."_

Roseanna stared at him, feeling like the breath had been knocked out of her. Bud wished he was dead. Bud had somehow found out where Ran'l had been taking him and what his last words had been, and now he thought it was his fault.

_"Who told you that, Bud?"_

_"Told me what?"_

_"Where Poppy was taking you. Who told you?"_

_"Calvin."_

Roseanna bit the inside of her cheek to try to keep her rage hidden from him.

_"He told me he hates me more than anything, Rose. He said he wishes Poppy would've hated me, too — that Poppy would still be alive if he had. He's not wrong, Rose, he's really not. He said it was my fault and that even when he was dying, Poppy was focused on me. I'm so sorry."_

Roseanna took Bud's hand, her blue eyes pleading with him.

_"Let me talk to him."_

Bud looked conflicted. If he let Roseanna talk to him, it was likely the two of them would get into an argument.

_"Bud? Please, let me talk to him. You weren't at fault. You couldn't help that some jerk ran a red light. That's on him, not you."_

Bud hung his head and nodded. He would let her talk to him. It was the least he could do, he supposed, and he really didn't want to make it any worse. Maybe he was by letting her talk to him, he didn't know.

_"I'm going to go talk to him, okay? You wanna stay here?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Alright. I'll be back soon, baby."_

—

"_CALVIN!_" Roseanna shouted the second she entered Sally's home.

"Upstairs," Sally called from the kitchen.

Roseanna ascended the stairs, knocking on the door to Calvin and Pharmer's room. Pharmer pulled it open, his brows furrowing when he saw her.

"Calvin here?"

"Yeah..."

"Let me see 'im."

Pharmer moved out of her way, letting her enter the room. Calvin was sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes focused on the floor.

"Calvin McCoy," Roseanna growled. Calvin looked up at her.

He couldn't remember seeing Roseanna as mad as she was now. He didn't know why she was mad at him; Bud was at Tolbert's so there was no possible way that she knew about what he'd said, right?

"What is wrong with you?" she demanded.

"What d'ya mean?" Calvin asked softly, his voice raspy.

"Tellin' Bud all that! Have ya lost yer mind, Calvin?! Is that what happened t' you?!"

"Don't you come here an' start on me!" Calvin raised his voice and stood up. "If it wasn't for him and his stupid museum, Poppy would still be alive! If Poppy didn't pick that — that _nobody _as his fav'rite, he'd still be alive, Roseanna!"

Roseanna could see the way Pharmer paled in her peripheral vision.

"Cal, don't — don't say that," Pharmer stammered. "Bud ain't a nobody."

"Well, he can't do anythin' on his own, can he? He can't even sleep by himself anymore! He's actin' like a selfish, self-centered, spoiled lil baby that needs t' be put in his place."

"Calvin," Roseanna shot him a warning glare.

"None of us but Bud was there with Poppy when he died. Bud was the one that was there when he died, Calvin, not you. Bud tried t' wake him up, r'member that? R'member how he didn't leave his bed for two days after he came home? He was _crushed, _Cal," Pharmer took up for his younger brother. "He's helped us all with grief. He lets us sleep with him if we don't wanna be alone. He won't say no. Bud's jus' tryin' t' make it easier for everyone, don't you see that?"

"Poppy wouldn't've even been there if it wa'n't for Bud and his stupid history museum," Calvin seethed.

"Stop it. You're placin' the blame on an innocent fourteen-year-old boy that can't hear a dagon thing, Calvin. Those museums give him a little bit of joy, and you know how Poppy was. If he could do anythin' t' make any one of us happy, he'd do it. He was jus' tryin' t' give him a good day, let him have some fun at a museum he wanted ta go to."

"It woulda been better for all of us if Bud wa'n't born."

Roseanna didn't think twice — she slapped him as hard as she could across his face.

"You shut your dagon mouth. Bud ain't done a thing t' you, so _keep your mouth shut. _Ya had no right t' say what ya said to him, Calvin. Ya have no right t' be standin' here blamin' it all on him n sayin' it woulda been better for all of us if he wa'n't born. Ya have _no right. _Bud's hurtin' more than any of us n he's tryin' his very best t' hide it. Bud was there, he blamed himself from the minute he found out Poppy died. You know that, Calvin? That Bud blames himself for Poppy's death anyways, and what ya said t' him made it worse?!"

"Yeah? What about the rest of us, Roseanna? What about the rest of us who have t' hide it so it don't look like we're as bothered, huh?! Why should we have t' go out an' act like nothin's wrong when he gets t' sit in his room all day long and do God knows what—"

"He don't jus' sit in there!" Roseanna screamed. "Up 'til t'day, he hadn't eaten a thing for a month, Calvin. _A month. _You think he don't hide it from you? He tries his best t' hide it from every single one of you. That boy sat here an' starved himself for a _month, _an' no one noticed. Not one person noticed that somethin' was wrong with him. Know what he told me t'day, Calvin?"

"What?" Calvin's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.

"He told me he wished he'd die. That he wishes he'd been the one t' die n not Poppy, or that he woulda died when Poppy did 'cause it didn't matter t' him. I'm so scared he's gonna wind up doin' somethin' that's gonna really hurt him or even kill him, an' there ain't gonna be nothin' I can do 'bout it 'cause I won't know. I'm scared that all of you are gonna try somethin' like that, an' I don't wanna lose any of ya. Cry if you want to, Calvin. No one's gonna judge ya for it. Cry an' scream an' let it all out. Don't bottle it up 'til ya end up like this, Cal. You'll do more harm than good that way. Understand?"

"Yeah," he breathed, nodding ever so slightly. "I understand. Where — where is he?"

"He's at my place. I figure he's asleep by now. He looked tired when he was talkin' t' me."

"Okay. Mind if I come with ya? I've gotta talk t' him."

"Sure, Cal. C'mon. Pharmer, you tell Tolbert n tell him it's gettin' straightened out. Just text him, it'll be okay. Tolbert's not gonna hurt anybody s' long as I'm here."

"Okay, Roseanna," Pharmer agreed softly.

—

Calvin had been told to look in the guest room first. That was where Bud was going to stay until he decided to go home, so Calvin did as he was told and walked down the hall to the guest room, rapping on the door with his knuckle before pushing it open.

He sighed when he found it empty, turning and coming face to face with Tolbert. He yelped in surprise.

"Relax. I made a promise I wouldn't hurt you, or scream at ya. I want to, but I ain't gonna," Tolbert told him, his blue eyes full of understanding. "I know how ya feel, Cal. Feels like ya shouldn't want t' cry or — or anythin' like that. Like ya shouldn't have that empty feelin' in yer chest. But you do. Ya cry at night when no one else is awake n ya can't seem t' find anythin' that fills that void, so ya look for someone t' blame, an' ya blame the first person who comes t' mind. Ya get mean wit' 'em 'cause ya found someone t' take it out on, an' they jus' stand there n take it. Even if they know what you say ain't true."

"I didn't mean no harm," Calvin spoke softly. "I never meant t' let what Bud did bother me s' badly. I didn't know he hadn't ate for a month, Tol. If I did, I woulda fed him."

"It wouldn't-a mattered if you knew or not. He wa'n't gonna eat nothin'," Tolbert tried to comfort him. "C'mon. We'll finish this in the kitchen. Roseanna's got a plan n it'll work."

"Y' sure? I doubt Bud wants t' see me right now."

"Bud loves you, Calvin. He might believe that ya hate him, but he still loves ya. C'mon."

They moved to the kitchen, Tolbert leaning against the counter while Calvin sat down.

"I didn't think... I didn't think that I could hurt him with what I said," Calvin whispered. "An' then t'day, I got mad 'cause Roseanna came in mad n started tellin' at me. _Oh God, _Tolbert! I—I said he was a nobody n that it woulda been easier on all of us if he hadn't been born. Oh my God, I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it."

Tolbert crossed the room and sat down beside Calvin.

"He don't know ya said that, Cal. What yer gonna do is talk t' him. If anyone understands what yer feelin' right now, it's Bud McCoy. He'll understand, Calvin. But you have t' let yerself cry, an' grieve, an' just let it all out before it even starts t' get better. I want ya t' get better. I don't like you bein' s' hurt that ya hurt other people, Cal."

Calvin bit down on his lip.

"Bud'll let ya talk t' him. He understands. He won't make ya feel like yer weak or whatever it is that keeps ya from lettin' it out. Bud blames himself for it anyway. He's blamed himself ever since he found out that Poppy died in that crash. So really, Calvin, I don't think ya hurt him very much with that. It was ev'rythin' else that got to him."

"I'm not sure he'd want t' see me after what I said ta him, Tolbert."

"He will. Bud's got a good heart, an' he's got the worst habit of letting people get close to him. Even when they hurt him, he's gonna let 'em get close again. That's jus' how he is, ya know that."

"Yeah..." Calvin trailed off, his eyes staring at the surface of the table.

"Cal? I do believe someone wants t' see you," Roseanna smiled softly. "Go on. He wants t' see you."

Calvin sighed and got up, heading out of the kitchen.

—

Bud sat on his bed, picking at his nails. He knew that Calvin was there and that he'd be there in just a minute or two so they could talk out whatever it was that happened, and Bud wasn't sure how to feel about it.

He looked up when the door opened. Calvin stepped inside and shut it behind him, making his way over to the bed.

_"Can I sit down?"_

_"Well, yeah."_

Bud pulled a face and Calvin sat down beside him, turning to where faced him. He sat with his legs crossed, and he sighed as he gazed at his younger brother. His eyes scanned his frame, noticing how he'd become thinner. How had Calvin not noticed it before?

_"I am so sorry for what I said to you. I didn't mean a word of it."_

_"It's okay, you're right. It was my fault."_

Calvin shook his head. It wasn't Bud's fault. He'd been so desperate to hide his pain that he placed the blame on Bud, who was absolutely innocent. And because of that, Calvin had lost his temper with him when Bud asked him if he would hug him. He knew Bud was having a hard time coping with the sudden loss, and he'd still lashed out at him without so much as a second thought.

_"No, it wasn't. You can't help that some idiot didn't follow the law, Bud. He ran a red light and Poppy got the worst of it. It's not your fault. I promise you, it's not your fault."_

Bud's eyes watered.

_"It feels that way," _he admitted, hanging his head so low that his chin touched his chest. _"I'm sorry."_

Calvin reached out and lifted his head.

_"It's not your fault. I'm so sorry I said all that to you. I made it worse and didn't even think that maybe, just maybe, you already felt that way. I'm so sorry for blaming you. I just wanted to keep the hurt away and instead, I ended up hurting you. I'm sorry, Buddy."_

_"It's okay. I don't want anyone to feel like they've done something wrong because of what they said to me. I deserve it. I deserve to be hated and screamed at, even if I can't hear you when you do it. Cal, if I tell you this, you have to promise you won't tell anyone."_

_"I promise."_

_"I want to die, Cal. I wish I would've died when Poppy did. I want to die so bad, Calvin."_

Calvin felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. Like someone had crushed his lungs in an iron grip, making it impossible for him to breathe again. His _fourteen-year-old _brother wanted to die. Calvin probably played a part in that.

_"Oh, Bud."_

Bud sobbed. Calvin pulled him close to him, holding him tightly while he sobbed into his shoulder. Apparently, Calvin wasn't the only one that hid how he truly felt.

_"Does Tolbert know you feel that way?"_

Bud shook his head vigorously. Tolbert didn't know a thing about it. All he knew was that Bud hadn't eaten for a month, and even then, Bud thought his older brother was going to have a heart attack. He didn't really want to risk what might happen if he told Tolbert that he wanted to die.

_"Oh, honey. Why do you want to die?"_

Calvin felt that given the circumstance, he had a justified reason for asking that. He doubted anyone would ever know it — Bud seemed adamant about keeping this conversation secret.

_"I just don't want to live anymore. I don't have Poppy, I don't have the one person I've always depended on. I don't know what to do anymore and it just feels like my heart is in pieces, Cal. I can't piece it back together."_

_"You may not have Poppy, but you've got all of us. There's ten people I can think of that loves you very much, and not one of them wants you to die. I know two of them are in the kitchen, scared to death that you're going to do something that's going to end up hurting you or killing you. They're scared they're gonna lose you, and I'm scared of that, too. I don't want to lose you, Bud."_

Bud sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

_"I don't mean to scare anybody."_

_"I know, honey. It's not that you really give us a reason to worry about it. It's more that we know how hard it is when you're grieving. We know how it feels, Bud, and we all know the thoughts that come with it. Sometimes, we can make death look magical in our minds. I promise you, Bud, death isn't magical."_

_"It's so hard, Calvin. I try to hide how much it really hurts and to just be there for everyone else, but I don't think it works. I think Mama knows. I think Tolbert does too, but I'm not sure. I just want it to stop."_

_"So do I. I never gave myself the chance to grieve. I just bottled it up and when it got to be too much for me, I blamed you and took it all out on you. I'm so sorry, Buddy. I never should have said what I said."_

Bud gave a huff and wiped at his eyes, ridding himself of the tears.

_"It's okay. I've said some things I didn't mean, too. Like the day of Poppy's funeral, I told Tolbert I hated him. I apologized for it, obviously, but he spent the whole day thinking I hated him."_

_"I never knew that."_

_"Tolbert and Mama were the only ones who knew about it. Maybe Jim since Tolbert has the tendency to tell him everything. I don't know." _There was a slight pause. _"Calvin, do you ever feel worthless?"_

_"Sometimes. Why?"_

_"Because I'm worthless. I can't communicate with people that isn't family or the people that don't know sign language, I can't read lips, I can't do anything. I'm worthless."_

_"You are not worthless. You're unique. There's plenty of people out there that's just like you. And yes, you can communicate with them. You can write. You can type out whatever you want to say and they can read it and type an answer. You are the best out of us, Bud. No one compares to you when it comes to compassion."_

Bud reached and grasped Calvin's hand. Calvin was two years older than him, but he seemed so much smarter than Bud. Bud leaned forward and placed a kiss on Calvin's cheek. Calvin returned the gesture.

_"You okay?" _Calvin asked, his eyes shining with concern.

_"Yes, Cal. I'm okay." _Bud ran his thumb across Calvin's knuckles. _"Want to watch a movie with me?"_

_"Sure thing, Buddy. Let's hope Rose and Tol don't think we've killed each other." _

Bud laughed — a wide smile with his shoulders shaking while he didn't make a sound — and released Calvin's hand. Calvin brought both hands up, ruffling Bud's hair to the point that it became messy. Bud swatted at his hands, shooting his older brother a playful glare. Calvin shrugged innocently before moving to where he laid down, stretching his arms above his head.

Bud grabbed the TV remote and laid down as well, but not before grabbing the covers and covering up with them. Calvin breathed a laugh, knowing how his baby brother had the tendency to get cold easily. Bud nudged Calvin gently and handed him the remote.

—

Tolbert was starting to worry. He'd been helping Roseanna rearrange things and throw things away, as she decided to tackle spring cleaning in the winter, for whatever reason she had, and three hours had passed without so much as a glimpse of Calvin or Bud.

"You think they're okay?" Roseanna huffed, setting a box down.

"I dunno. I'll go check on 'em in a second. Here, I'll get that. Go sit down b'fore ya fall over, Rose."

Roseanna nodded and did as she was told. Tolbert moved the box to the porch and set it down before going back inside and walking down the hall to the guest room. He opened the door and found Bud and Calvin sleeping. Calvin held tightly to Bud, who had his head laying on Calvin's chest, and seemed to be sleeping soundly.

Tolbert was shocked to find _Star Wars _playing on the TV. His brothers weren't exactly sci-fi fans, and usually watched action movies, historical fiction movies, Disney movies, and movie musicals, even if Bud didn't really get the songs. He just liked to watch them dance. And every now and then, Bud would convince them to watch a horror movie or a documentary on history with him. And as long as the documentary wasn't narrated by someone who made them want to fall asleep, they were fine with it.

He walked over to them, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV. He set it on the nightstand, shaking his head as he left the room.

Returning to the kitchen, Roseanna looked up at him expectantly while taking raising a glass of water to her lips.

"They're asleep."

She hummed and nodded, setting the glass down on the table.

"Of course they are. They okay?"

"Well, they were watchin' Star Wars, but they seem fine. I don't think either of 'em really likes Star Wars."

"Mmm... might be the only thing on."

"Maybe. I dunno, long as they ain't killin' each other, I don't care," Tolbert shrugged lightly. "Anythin' else ya need carried out?"

"Nah, 'm good. Thanks."

Tolbert nodded before sitting down. He had no doubt it was going to be a long day.

—

**_April 2016_**

Bud looked up from his desk when someone poked his arm. Calvin stood there, and quickly let him know that Tolbert was there for him. Bud nodded and closed the notebook he was writing in, shoving it in his backpack before standing and heading out the door.

Bud hadn't been feeling well, and since everyone had gotten into the habit of going to him when they couldn't sleep or they were having a bad night, Sally thought it would be best if he went to Tolbert's just until they were sure it was nothing contagious.

So Bud climbed in Tolbert's truck, giving him a wave as a greeting. Tolbert knew he felt bad just by the way he greeted him. Bud was always one to sign "hello" or "hey" before kissing their cheek. So when Bud did nothing more but wave, they knew he either felt bad or he was in a bad mood.

Tolbert drove the short distance to his house. He gave Bud the keys, knowing that the boy would likely beat him to the porch, and he slid out of the truck.

Bud shuffled to the porch and shoved the key in the lock, turning it and opening the door. He fought to get the key out again, setting the keys on the kitchen table before shuffling to his room and tossing his bag in the corner. He turned around and stumbled back, coming face to face with Tolbert.

_"Hey. You wanna come lay in my room? I'm going to watch a movie."_

_"Okay."_

He followed Tolbert to his room, laying down beside him and curling up against him. Bud felt miserable. He'd always been clingy when he was sick; it went from clingy to hateful, and then there were the (wonderful) times it was both.

Tolbert started pulling his fingers through Bud's hair. It felt nice and he closed his eyes, allowing him to do it while he drifted in between consciousness and unconsciousness. Tolbert knew that he was and kept pulling his fingers through his hair, watching the boy as his breathing evened out. Bud must've felt pretty bad if he didn't even try to stay awake.

Tolbert sighed, hoping that it was something Bud overcame easily.

—

Bud was miserable. His stomach hurt, his head hurt, _everything _hurt. He was curled up on the couch, four blankets covering him. Tolbert had to work so Roseanna came over to take care of him.

_"Hey, baby. Want something to eat?"_

_"No."_

Bud didn't think he'd be able to keep it down if he did eat.

_"Will you let me take your temperature?"_

_"Sure."_

Roseanna got up and went to the bathroom, finding the thermometer on the sink. Tolbert had told her it was brand new and he had the intention of using it on Bud, but he had to get ready for work and then he (literally) had to run out the door because he was late.

She went back to the living room, where Bud had covered his head. She sighed and pulled the blankets down, bending down and sticking the thermometer in his mouth. Bud whined, his hazel eyes barely open while he shot Roseanna an irritated look.

_"I know, honey. I'm sorry."_

The thermometer beeped and she took it out of his mouth. A sigh passed through her lips and she shook her head. Her baby brother wouldhave to have a fever of 103.0 when she didn't have any way to get him to the doctor.

_"Bad?"_

_"Not too good. 103."_

Bud's nose crinkled. Usually, a fever of 103 meant he had to go to the doctor. Bud didn't want to move from the couch.

_"I don't have to go anywhere, right?"_

_"Right. You can stay here."_

_—_

That evening, Bud got up to find some aspirin. His head was throbbing and he was honestly tired of it.

Tolbert was home by then, and had gone to his room after telling Bud he'd be working on the accounting for the week. Bud had nodded and went back to sleep then, but now he was awake and his head was hurting ten times worse than it was before.

He shuffled to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. He found fever reducer and Mucinex, and other medicines that were basically for colds and allergies. He frowned until he noticed a bottle in the back. He grabbed it, hoping it was what he needed (why didn't Tolbert have Advil of all things?).

Bud read the label and nearly dropped it. _Lithium._

Why on earth did Tolbert have Lithium? Bud hurried to Tolbert's room, shoving the door open. Tolbert looked up at him and quirked an inquisitive brow. Bud stepped closer and tossed him the bottle.

_"What are you doing with Lithium?!"_

Tolbert sighed and set it on the nightstand.

_"Are you really digging through my medicine cabinet?"_

_"I was trying to find an aspirin. My head is killing me."_

_"Oh. Aspirin's in the kitchen. I haven't got around to putting it up yet."_

_"Lithium, Tolbert. What are ya doing with Lithium?"_

_"It's for my bipolar depression. I've been taking it since you were eight."_

_"Oh. Why didn't you tell me?"_

_"Poppy knew. Mama knows. That's enough for me, really. It's embarrassing, Bud. I've got something wrong with my head."_

_"No, you don't. Lots of people have it."_

_"And those people aren't nicknamed Crazy McCoy."_

_"You really going to let them idiots bother you? I'll hit them next time I see them."_

_"You'll do no such thing. Go get the Advil and go back to bed."_

_"I don't want to go back to bed."_

_"Then come in here. I don't care."_

_"Okay. Be right back."_

Bud went to the kitchen, finding a bottle of Advil setting on the table. He grabbed it and opened it, taking one out before shuffling to the sink and grabbing a glass. He filled it with water and took the aspirin, washing it down with water.

He made his way back to Tolbert's room, glass of water in hand. Tolbert glanced up at him as he set the glass on the nightstand, watching him crawl onto the bed.

_"How ya feeling?"_

_"Miserable."_

Tolbert raised his brows at the answer. He should've expected that, honestly. Bud looked like he was miserable. He would've been more surprised if Bud answered with anything but miserable.

_"Everything hurts, Tol."_

_"I'm sorry, honey. Why don't ya try to sleep?"_

Bud nodded, closing his eyes as Tolbert reached down with his left hand, massaging Bud's scalp. He hummed and scooted a little closer. He didn't mind being sick as much when Tolbert played with his hair. It felt nice. Bud dozed off, Tolbert chuckling.

—

**_October 2016_**

On the evening before Bud's fifteenth birthday, he broke down again.

Tolbert had held him while he cried, and he'd ended up falling asleep in Tolbert's room, snuggled up to his older brother. Tolbert didn't mind it; he knew it would likely be worse once the boy woke up.

And Tolbert had been right — it was much worse when Bud woke up.

It took him a minute to register where he was, then it took him a few more minutes to register why he was there. And then he broke. He sobbed into Tolbert's chest, wheezing as he drew in breaths, tears rolling down his face and onto the pillow.

Tolbert rubbed his back in a feeble attempt to calm him. He didn't know what he could possibly say to make a difference with it, but he would try his best. Tolbert gently tapped the boy's cheek, gaining his attention.

_"Hey, it's okay. Breathe."_

Bud took in a breath.

_"Bud, calm down. Tell me what's wrong."_

_"Poppy. I want Poppy."_

It wasn't often that Bud actually admitted that he wanted Ran'l. It was more of a rare occasion that was starting to become more and more common due to all the holidays and little things that they used to do this time of year. It was around this time of year Ran'l would start trying to get ideas for Christmas gifts, and he would often ask Bud's opinion on it. Bud always gave his honest opinion and Ran'l always appreciated it.

Tolbert wanted a way to make it easier for Bud. Almost an entire year had passed since the accident, and everyone but Bud was slowly piecing themselves back together. They all had bad days and nights, and on those days, they would sleep with Bud, who was more than willing to let one of his siblings sleep beside him. He still went to Sally's room when she had bad days, and she let him curl up against her. It always seemed to calm her, even if Bud couldn't hear a single word she said.

_"I know you do. Why don't we go out today? We'll do whatever you want to do."_

Bud shook his head. He didn't want to go anywhere. He didn't want to go out in public.

_"Are you sure?"_

_"Yes, Tolbert. I'm sure."_

Tolbert sighed. Sally had sent him over to Tolbert's the night before in hopes that Tolbert would be able to help him. She'd hoped that Tolbert would be able to convince him to go out and have fun, to do whatever he wanted for a single day.

But it wasn't working. No matter what he thought of or tried, none of it persuaded Bud to get out of bed. He laid there and refused to move. So after about ten minutes of failing, Tolbert went to go take a shower, leaving Bud alone.

Bud didn't see the point in celebrating his birthday anymore. He didn't want to be alive, so why should he celebrate his life? Why should he get to go out and have fun when his father was dead? Why did he live and Ran'l die? Ran'l was more important than Bud was; everyone depended on Ran'l. No one depended on Bud.

And he knew that it was irrational to think of harming himself, but he thought about it more and more often. He thought of different ways of taking his own life and kept them all stored inside his head. He kept every harmful thought to himself and tried to act like he was getting better. But they knew he wasn't. He didn't know how they knew, but they knew.

He'd read several times that suicide was selfish; that it was something that only inflicted harm upon others. That wasn't true in Bud's case. No one would be bothered if he died. After all, he'd been the reason Ran'l had died, hadn't he? Ran'l had been taking him to that museum, and on top of that, Bud had distracted him while he was driving. It was Bud's fault, he knew it was his fault.

And he believed that suicide wasn't selfish. He believed that it was the best way out when you weren't loved. He believed that it was the best way to get out of everybody's way when you were nothing but a burden and had been your entire life. He believed it was the best way to make people's lives easier.

Bud had no reason for living. He was pretty sure everybody was sick of him acting the way that he was and he tried to stop, he really did, but nothing he did ever made it better. He was almost certain even Tolbert was sick of him.

He wanted his father. That was all he wanted. He wanted Ran'l back. He wanted to be able to go back in time and switch places with Ran'l. He wanted to be the one that died, and his father the one that lived.

Ran'l deserved to live. Ran'l did so much to help every member of their family and several people in the Tug Valley.

Bud deserved to die. Bud was worthless and stupid, and no one ever had anything to do with him even when he did try to communicate with them. They would scoff and say something, and Bud knew it had to be something that would've been considered offensive by the looks on people's faces when it was said. Bud was ignorant.

He curled up under the covers, sniveling. He didn't _want_ to be alive. He wanted to be dead. He supposed he could tell Tolbert the truth if he asked him what he wanted. Maybe Tolbert would have compassion on him and let him die. Maybe Tolbert would see that Bud had been trying to tell him all along that he was nothing but a stupid, worthless idiot that didn't know a thing that went on around him.

But he knew what would happen if he told Tolbert that he wanted to die. He'd tell Sally and Sally would force him to stay with Tolbert until he "got better". Bud would never get better. The longer he stayed alive, the worse it was going it get.

He didn't know who he could tell that would actually let him die. Not very many people understood him. Well, there was Ellison Hatfield. Bud had been told that there'd been some trouble between their families a long time ago and that it had all been cleared up. He had no trouble believing that, as Ellison and Ran'l always spoke to the other whenever they saw each other.

Maybe he could talk to Ellison. Ellison would understand, wouldn't he? Ellison would understand that it was all Bud's fault and that he should be dead instead of Ran'l. Ellison wasn't related to him, he didn't have to lie and say that it wasn't Bud's fault. He could tell him plain.

Tolbert tapped Bud's shoulder to gain his attention. When had he gotten back?

_"What do you want to do?"_

_"I want to talk to Ellison."_

_"Hatfield?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Okay. Go get dressed."_

—

Tolbert sighed as he pulled into Ellison's driveway, parking the truck and getting out. He closed the door, Bud trailing behind him like a lost puppy. They walked up to the front door, standing on the porch as Tolbert rang the doorbell.

Ellison's wife, Sarah Ann, opened the door.

"Is Ellison home?" Tolbert asked, trying to think of a way to explain why they were there to her.

"He is," she nodded. "I'll get him for ya."

Tolbert watched her disappear inside the house. She returned a moment later with Ellison, who mumbled something to his wife before greeting Tolbert.

"How can I help ya, Tolbert?"

"He wants t' talk t' you," Tolbert responded quietly. "It was all he said he wanted. He's not been the same since Poppy died in that crash they got in. I'm sorry if we're botherin' you."

"No, no, I'll talk to him. You both come in. I'm sure Sarah won't mind entertainin' ya while I talk with him," Ellison stepped aside, allowing both McCoy boys to enter. "I've been meanin' t' stop in n check on him anyway. I've been thinkin' 'bout him here lately."

He closed the door once they were inside, directing Tolbert to the kitchen, where Sarah Ann would be. He grabbed Bud's bicep when he started to follow Tolbert.

_"I thought you wanted to talk to me."_

_"I do."_

_"Follow me. We'll talk in my room."_

Bud felt weird following Ellison to his room. He didn't really know Ellison that well, why was he bothering him with his petty problems?

_"Sit down, Bud."_

They sat on the edge of the bed, Bud anxiously chewing his lip. Ellison noticed it.

_"What's the matter?"_

_"I'm sorry for bothering you."_

_"You're not bothering me. I'm glad you came. I've been meaning to stop and check on you."_

_"I just don't know who else to talk to at this point. No one understands, Ellison."_

_"Help me understand."_

_"I want to die, Ellison."_

Ellison's heart plummeted to his stomach. He had a boy no older than his own son sitting in front of him telling him that he wanted to die.

_"Why?" _Ellison queried, slightly tilting his head to the side.

_"I should've been the one to die in that crash. Poppy did a lot of good. I'm just a worthless idiot. I lost the person I loved the most and it's made me different. I know people don't like it. They're sick of it, they're sick of me. I think my family is getting sick of me, too. I don't think any of them really love me; especially the ones that know what happened."_

_"Bud, that accident wasn't your fault."_

_"He was taking me to a museum in Louisville I'd shown him. It was a history museum. And... while he was driving, he let me trace patterns that were invisible. I distracted him."_

_"It wasn't your fault. You had no way of knowing that some idiot was going to run a red light, Bud."_

Bud sniffed.

_"Then why did Poppy have to die? Why wasn't it me?! I'm stupid, I'm worthless! If one of us had to die, why wasn't it me instead?"_

Ellison gently grasped Bud's biceps. The boy gazed at him, his hazel eyes glistening with unshed tears.

_"You're not stupid and you're not worthless. You're different and there's nothing wrong with that. Your father died because the car hit his side extremely hard. The rollover didn't help him any. Your father loved you very much, Bud. He would've done anything to keep you safe, even if his side hadn't been the side that took the impact."_

_"Why would he do that? I'm not worth it."_

_"But to him, to a lot of people, you are. You're worth it."_

_"I don't feel that way."_

_"I know."_

Bud bit down on his lip, his eyes meeting Ellison's.

_"Tolbert doesn't know that I want to die."_

_"He doesn't?" _Ellison blinked in surprise.

_"No. I try to hide it the best I can. No one knows what I think about, Ellison. I try to keep it all to myself and it's really hard."_

_"Then tell me. I won't tell anyone."_

Bud hung his head and thought on it for a moment. Ellison wouldn't judge, would he? He'd listen to what Bud had to say and tell him what he thought on it.

_"I think about dying a lot. I've thought of more ways to kill myself than I ever thought I could. It doesn't scare me anymore when these thoughts just... just appear in my head. I don't want to live. Everybody acts like they want me here, they act like they love me and they don't care if I stay in bed all day and cry, but I know they're lying to me. I think some of them blame me for it, but they won't admit it. I don't blame them for it, I feel the same way, but I want them to tell me they feel that way. I don't want them to act like they don't care if I get around them or go to them when I'm having a bad day."_

Ellison watched him take a shuddering breath. Bud wasn't done yet. And that was the moment Ellison's heart broke. He had a fifteen-year-old boy in front of him confessing that he wanted to die and he'd thought of more methods to kill himself than he cared to admit.

_"They don't love me, Ellison. They act like they do, but they don't. No one loves me. I'm to the point that someone could point a gun at me and I wouldn't care. I wouldn't care at all if someone killed me. I wouldn't care if everyone told me they hated me because it would be true, and it's one thing I deserve. I want to be dead, I don't want to be here."_

Bud burst into a heartbreaking sob. Ellison gently tapped his forearm.

_"Come here."_

Bud didn't hesitate to do as he said, crawling over to him. Ellison pulled Bud onto his lap and held him, just like Ran'l used to. He had one arm wrapped around Bud and the other cupped his face while Ellison gently rocked back and forth. It was what Ran'l used to do whenever Bud was upset.

Bud laid his head on his shoulder. Maybe he shouldn't have said so much.

—

"Excuse me a minute, Tolbert. I'm gonna go see who's tryin' t' beat my door in," Sarah remarked dryly, causing Tolbert to nearly choke on his coffee.

Sarah made her way to the front door and opened it, revealing Anse and Levicy.

"Where's my brother?" Anse asked plainly.

"In his room."

"Thank ya."

"Levicy!" Sarah caught her arm. "There's a fifteen-year-old deaf boy in there talkin' with him. I've got his brother in the kitchen. Make sure Anse don't say nothin', will ya?"

"Anderson won't say anything," Levicy assured her before rushing to catch up with her husband.

—

Bud had fallen asleep. Well... he'd actually cried himself to sleep. Ellison still held him, afraid to move in fear of waking him. Bud seemed so peaceful while he slept that Ellison didn't want to risk ruining that for him.

He looked up when the door opened, revealing his older brother.

"Hey, Anse," Ellison greeted casually, as though he didn't have a teenager in his arms.

"Ellison, is that Little Randall?" Anse looked at his brother strangely.

"Yes, it is. He wanted t' talk t' me an' after pouring his heart out, he cried himself t' sleep," Ellison murmured. "He's deaf so you can talk as loud as ya want. It won't bother him none."

"What'd he want t' talk t' you for?" Anse queried as he entered the room and sat down.

"Said he didn't know who else t' talk to. It's real hard on him t'day."

"Why?"

"Him n Ran'l share a birthday. Bud turned fifteen t'day, and Ran'l woulda been fifty-three. It's takin' its toll on him."

"Well, I came here t' yell n drag you t' work, but I can understand why ya didn't come in. Stay here with him, Ellison. Looks like ya gained another kid."

"Anse," Ellison shot him a look. "That ain't funny."

"Sure it is. Ya just don't have a sense of humor."

"I'll have you know I have a _wonderful _sense of humor. You're the one outta the two of us with a terrible sense of humor."

"Oh, are we gonna forget 'Lias and Wall exist?"

"A'ight, outta the four of us, you're the one with a terrible sense of humor."

"Nah. Wall's worse than me."

Ellison laughed at that.

"Levicy, do me a favor n get Tolbert, will ya? I think he'd like t' know what's goin' on," Ellison let out a soft chuckle. He wouldn't mention anything about their conversation; he'd promised he wouldn't.

Levicy nodded, heading out to fetch Tolbert.

"Well, I'm gonna head out now. Take care, Ellison. If he comes by again, you stay with him. He needs ya more than I do right now."

"Thank ya, Anse."

Anse nodded and stood, taking his leave.

Ellison looked down at the sleeping teenager in his arms. He loved Bud. He'd only seen him a handful of times since Ran'l's death, but before that, he'd seen him several times and he always made a point to speak to him. He loved watching the way he lit up whenever he spoke to him. There was something about Bud that made Ellison love him.

Maybe it was because he sort of reminded him of his own son. Cotton Top was disabled. He was often mocked and they'd been told it was likely he wouldn't ever be able to speak, or walk, or eat solid foods, but Cotton defied them and proved that he could.

"Miss Levicy said y' wanted me. Somethin' wrong?" Tolbert inquired as he rounded the corner and entered the room. He stopped when he saw Bud.

"He fell asleep. I haven't dared t' move yet. Tolbert, I can't tell ya what he said 'cause I promised I wouldn't, but ya need t' try t' get him t' talk t' you. Or maybe we can start doin' this more often. He's grievin' n there's so much hurt with it... I wanna help him the best I can, but I ain't sure how to."

"I'll see what he'd rather do after I get him home. Mama's makin' all his fav'rites for supper."

"You want me t' wake him?"

"Nah. Let him sleep. It's the only time he looks peaceful anymore."

Ellison nodded slightly. Bud stirred in his sleep, but he didn't wake.

"He's a good kid, Tolbert. Yer parents did good with both of y'all."

"Thanks, I reckon." Tolbert observed the way Ellison was holding Bud. It was the same way Ran'l used to. "Y'know, he ain't been held like that in almost a year. That's the way Poppy always held him. He loves bein' held that way."

"Oh, really?" Ellison blinked in surprise.

"Mhm. He practically melts when he's held like that. It's like he's a little kid again," Tolbert laughed softly. "I'll bring him by more often if ya want me to."

"I wouldn't mind it. I enjoy his company."

—

**_November 2017_**

Bud pulled into Tolbert's driveway, honking the horn. He had been given the task of driving Tolbert to the hospital, as his older brother was as stubborn as a mule and wouldn't go to the doctor until he could barely breathe.

Tolbert came out, closing and locking the door behind him before making his way to Bud's SUV.

_"I'm sorry."_

_"If you'd go to the doctor when we tell you to, you wouldn't be like this," _Bud quipped.

Tolbert couldn't argue with that. He just didn't like going to the doctor unless he absolutely had to. And since it was getting to the point that he couldn't really breathe right, he had to.

Bud shifted into reverse, turning his head while he turned around. He shifted into drive and turned the wheel, driving across the small bridge. He saw Tolbert messing with the radio and paid him no mind. Bud couldn't hear it so he didn't care.

They set out toward MedExpress, as that was the most Tolbert would agree to when it came to going to the doctor. He wouldn't agree to Pikeville Medical Center, even though Bud was 99.9 percent sure Tolbert had pneumonia and should be hospitalized.

Bud stopped at a red light, glancing over at Tolbert as he sneezed. Bud pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and passed it to Tolbert, who signed his thanks. Bud nodded as the light changed again, pressing his foot on the gas peddle.

—

Bud had been right — Tolbert had pneumonia. Since it wasn't a severe case, he was sent home with a couple of prescriptions and told to stay in bed. Bud rolled his eyes when Tolbert translated that for him. He knew he'd have a fight on his hands when it came to keeping Tolbert in bed.

Much to Bud's surprise, the first thing Tolbert did upon arriving home was change and go to bed. Bud was busy trying to figure out how to get Tolbert to take the medicine he'd been prescribed, as he knew his older brother would put up a fight over that as well.

Tolbert was usually pretty easy to get along with when he was sick, as he usually didn't do anything but sleep, but when it came to taking medicine or listening to someone else, he fought against them. And Bud _really _wasn't in the mood to be fighting with his older brother.

Getting the doses he needed, Bud went to Tolbert's room, where Tolbert peeked out from beneath the blanket.

_"Sit up."_

Tolbert rolled his eyes and did as he was told. Figuring he could make it a little easier on Bud, he took the medicine without complaint, though he did pull a face after taking each one. Bud had found that funny and had laughed at him.

_"Not funny."_

_"It really is. I've never seen you make a face like that."_

_"Shut up."_

_"You want a cold cloth or something? Something to drink? I know you don't want anything to eat."_

_"Something cold, please. I don't care what it is."_

Bud nodded and went back to the kitchen. He found a Gatorade in the fridge, deciding that would be good enough and snatched it, heading back to Tolbert's room. Tolbert was still sitting up, and he thanked Bud before taking the Gatorade. Bud nodded silently.

Tolbert opened it and took a sip, glancing at his baby brother, who had settled in a chair beside the bed. Oh, so Bud didn't trust him to stay in bed. Tolbert honestly wasn't surprised at that. Bud knew how he was and he knew that Tolbert would get up.

_"You don't have to act like a mother hen."_

_"I do when it's you I'm taking care of. You don't listen."_

Tolbert couldn't argue with that. Bud had a really good point.

_"Alright then. Are you doing okay?" _Tolbert asked. He knew something was off with Bud, but it was much harder to coax him into telling him what was wrong ever since Ran'l died.

_"I guess so."_

_"Is the grief any better?"_

He watched Bud hesitate.

_"No. It's gotten worse."_

Tolbert sighed and set the Gatorade on the nightstand.

_"Talk to me."_

_"I think about death a lot. I've thought of a lot of different ways to die, Tolbert. It used to scare me, but it doesn't anymore. I'm not scared when these thoughts keep me awake. Thoughts about dying and killing myself. Then sometimes I wonder why it wasn't me instead of Poppy. I'm worthless and stupid. Poppy deserved to live, not me."_

_"Bud, Poppy would have wanted you to live. It wouldn't matter whose side got hit, he would've done his very best to protect you at all costs."_

_"I watched him die, Tolbert."_

Tolbert felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. If anyone knew about that, they'd never mentioned it to Tolbert.

_"He said something to the paramedic and he went unconscious. Or that's what I thought happened. He died right in front of me. I tried to wake him up, I really did."_

_"Oh, Bud."_

Bud sobbed and hung his head. Tolbert grasped his hand.

_"I'm so sorry, Tolbert. It's all my fault. I never should've shown him that stupid museum."_

_"Hey, stop that. It wasn't your fault, honey. All of it was an accident. Poppy wouldn't want you to blame yourself."_

_"Who else are you going to blame?"_

_"The guy who caused the accident. He was going way too fast and he ran a red light. He broke the law, Bud. You did nothing wrong by wanting to go to a museum."_

_"We wouldn't have been there if I hadn't shown him that stupid museum. Poppy would still be alive if I hadn't shown him that stupid museum."_

_"Bud, you can't help what happened. You had no way of knowing some idiot was going to do something that caused a lot of harm. None of it was your fault, do you understand me?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Good. Come here."_

Bud crawled onto the bed and curled up against Tolbert. He didn't care if Tolbert was sick or not; Tolbert gave some of the best hugs in the Tug Valley. Bud reached up and planted a kiss on Tolbert's cheek.

_"You're going to get sick doing that."_

_"I don't care."_

Bud laid his head on Tolbert's shoulder, letting his older brother wrap an arm around him. Bud wrapped his arms around Tolbert's middle and hummed in contentment. He didn't care that Tolbert was sick. He liked being near his older brother.

Tolbert pulled his fingers through Bud's hair, watching the boy's eyes flutter closed. Tolbert had known for the longest time that there was something wrong with Bud, he just couldn't get Bud to talk to him.

But now that he had, Tolbert felt that he could help Bud more. Bud had told him earlier that he hadn't slept much the night before and that he was really tired, and he'd told Tolbert that he spent most of the night thinking about Ran'l. Tolbert didn't have a doubt in his mind that that was true. Bud was always thinking about Ran'l.

And sure, Tolbert knew that other people thought it was weird for the two of them to be as close as they were, but frankly, Tolbert didn't care. He didn't care that the gossip women had started talking about Bud going to see Ellison and staying there for hours, he didn't care that they thought it was ludicrous when Bud kissed his cheek or any of their family's cheeks, and he didn't care that Ellison, Sarah, and Cotton Top had started attending church more and more often and that Ellison was always sandwiched between Bud and Cotton.

Tolbert remembered how his mother had nearly fallen out of her seat when Ellison first walked through the door. The Hatfields were known for coming to the Easter and Christmas services and nothing else. And when Ellison Hatfield sat down beside her youngest son and smiled at him tenderly, almost identical to the way Ran'l used to, well, Tolbert was pretty sure Sally had a miniature heart attack.

And after that, Ellison started showing up more often, doing things with Bud. Sally encouraged it — Bud was happy again. Any time he was around Ellison, he was happy. Bud had found another person to look up to as a father figure, and she certainly wouldn't stop him. She'd rather him look up to Ellison than look up to Perry Cline or Frank Phillips, she'd told Tolbert. It wasn't that she didn't like them — she just didn't think they were the kind of influences Bud needed in his life. Ellison had a good heart and a good soul, and she knew he'd never intentionally lead Bud in the wrong direction.

It was mid-summer when Sally realized just how much Ellison loved her son. He'd called her, telling her that he was taking Cotton Top to a bowling alley in Pikeville and asked if Bud could come along. She'd asked him and he'd said yes, so she allowed it and had seen the way Ellison interacted with him. Ellison treated Bud like he was his own son.

Tolbert had figured that out the first time Ellison sat beside Bud at Sunday meeting. He'd spent most of his time after the service speaking with Bud, who looked overjoyed that Ellison had shown up.

But now, with Bud curled up against him, Tolbert wondered just how much Ellison knew. He knew that Ellison had suggested for Tolbert to attempt to get Bud to talk to him, but he hadn't said why because he'd told Bud he wouldn't say a word about it. Maybe that was why Ellison had suggested it.

Bud gently tugged on Tolbert's shirt to get his attention.

_"What are you thinking about?"_

_"You."_

_"Why?" _Bud's brows furrowed.

_"I worry about you, Buddy. I think I just figured out why you've seemed a little off for a while now."_

Bud bit his lip and nodded slightly.

_"Ellison knew. He's known since the first time I talked to him."_

_"I figured."_

Bud smacked the side of his face, earning a strange look from Tolbert.

_"Something bit me!"_

Tolbert's brows knitted together and he observed Bud's face.

_"Whatever it was, it's not there now."_

_"Probably because I killed it."_

_"Probably." _Tolbert chuckled.

Bud looked up at him, smiled, and nuzzled against his shoulder. And it was then that Tolbert realized that Bud was still like a child. He wouldn't ever grow out of it. He fully depended on the people he loved, there wasn't any way that he couldn't. They did all the communicating for him whenever they were out in public — even at the doctor's office, Bud had someone with him so they could do the talking. (It was shocking to see how many people didn't know sign language and worked in healthcare. Bud had stopped trying to communicate with them when he was eight.)

Tolbert would always be there for Bud. He didn't care if Bud ended up hating him and everything about him, he would always be there for him when he needed him.

—

**_August 2018_**

Bud sat beside Ellison, who had an arm wrapped around the sixteen-year-old. He watched Johnse take a step back before taking off in a sprint, trying to jump over a fair-sized hole in the ground. Johnse didn't make it. Bud winced sympathetically.

_"That had to hurt."_

_"He'll be back on his feet in a minute. He's done worse than that, Bud."_

Cap was up next. Bud saw Anse shake his head in his peripheral vision and laughed, nudging Ellison before nodding toward Anse. Ellison laughed as well. Bud watched as Cap ran, taking a leap and landing (almost) gracefully on the other side. He jumped when someone placed a hand on his shoulder, turning to find Wall.

_"You want anything?"_

Bud blinked. He didn't know Wall knew sign language.

_"No, thanks. I didn't know you knew sign language."_

_"Not many people do. You enjoy watching those two make fools of themselves?"_

Bud laughed and nodded. Wall gave a small smile and ruffled Bud's hair before sitting down next to him.

_"Why don't many people know?"_

_"Well, I don't really know anyone who uses sign language other than you. I haven't had the chance to talk to you until now."_

_"Why do you and Ellison know it?"_

_"I took it up because I was bored and wanted to do something. So I learned sign language. I honestly don't know why Ellison knows it."_

Bud nodded slowly.

_"You always learn a new language when you're bored?"_

Wall barked a laugh, startling Ellison.

_"No, not always."_

"Good Lord, Wall! Ya scared me outta my skin," Ellison grumbled.

"Sorry. Ya didn't tell me he was witty, Ellison."

"He can be when he wants t' be," Ellison chuckled. "He's a good kid. Sally n Ran'l did real good with this one, even if they had no idea what they were doin'."

"All their other kids can hear, can't they?"

"Yeah."

"Then what happened with Bud?"

"I don't know. Sally thinks that somethin' happened to his eardrums. She never could find out why her youngest son was born deaf."

"He was born this way?"

"Mhm," Ellison nodded. "I think that's why he don't mind it much. He's never known what it's like t' hear."

Wall hummed and nodded slightly. Ellison gently poked Bud.

_"I'm going to go talk to 'Lias for a minute. I'll be right back."_

Bud nodded, watching him as he got up and made his way over to 'Lias. He turned to Wall, whose eyes flicked toward him while he quirked a brow.

_"Do you like the county fair?" _Bud asked.

_"Usually. I get to watch my nephews act like a bunch of idiots."_

Bud laughed. He liked Wall. He'd never really talked to him before, but Wall had always seemed like a nice person to him.

_"Well, I'm not sure if I'd call them idiots. They're just special."_

_"They're special, alright." _A pause. _"Special idiots."_

Bud shook his head and looked forward, finding that Johnse was talking to Roseanna.

_"You know her?" _Wall asked. Bud knew that Wall knew their family, so it was likely he just hadn't recognized her yet.

_"Yeah. That's my sister Roseanna."_

Wall gave him an odd look before casting his glance back toward Johnse and Roseanna.

_"You're right. Johnse was standing where I couldn't see her at first."_

_"I have a feeling that's common."_

_"Extremely common. We never know who he's with because all we see is blonde hair."_

Bud smiled and glanced over at where Ellison was. Ellison was laughing with 'Lias, who seemed to be irritated at whatever his brother had said.

_"Are you a judge?"_

Wall nodded.

_"I am. I happen to be a judge in Mingo County."_

Bud nodded. He was right, then. He'd thought Wall was a judge, but he didn't know if that was true or not.

_"Any interesting cases?"_

_"They're all interesting in their own way. Sometimes it's because someone's crazy, other times it's the case itself. Then there's the rare occasion that it's both."_

_"Do you like your job?"_

_"I do. People have found out quickly that threats don't bother me."_

Bud let out an amused huff.

_"Tolbert's behind you, by the way."_

Bud turned around, finding Tolbert. Tolbert ruffled his hair and gave him a soft smile.

_"You ready to go?"_

_"Yeah."_

He quickly signed a goodbye to Wall, standing and leaving.

—

Bud ended up staying with Tolbert. And on top of that, he had a nightmare that threw him into a panic attack, so he ended up sleeping in Tolbert's room.

_"You alright now?" _Tolbert asked, his eyes shining with concern.

_"Yes, I'm okay. I'm sorry."_

_"Don't be. You can't help it, Bud."_

_"I guess."_

_"Listen to me, okay? I will always be here for you. Always. Even if you end up hating me and everything about me, I'm always in your corner. I'm always here to help or listen, or even just hold you until you feel better. That's what I'm here for, Bud. I'm here to help you. Okay?"_

_"Okay," _he nodded slightly. _"I love you."_

_"I love you too."_

Bud kissed Tolbert's cheek. Maybe everything would be alright after all.


	14. Screaming for Relief (AU)

**_August 1882_**

Tolbert felt a sharp, burning pain in his side and shoulder as he regained consciousness. His head was throbbing — almost like he'd hit it extremely hard off of something — and he didn't want to open his eyes. Even with his eyes closed the sun made his head hurt.

He felt something loose around his legs and his waist. He thought that was strange; he couldn't remember exactly what happened, but he knew he shouldn't have something tied around him. So he slowly forced his eyes open, finding he was lying on the ground beside a tree, his entire body bent at a funny angle.

Tolbert fought to get loose, his left hand brushing against his side. He drew in a sharp breath and looked down, finding a crimson stain. What had happened?

After getting himself loose, he slowly stood up. In his peripheral vision, he caught sight of something dangling on the tree to his left. Tolbert's brow furrowed as he turned toward it, his heart stopping when he found Bud hanging there, completely still save for the slight swinging of his arm.

"Oh God, no," Tolbert muttered. He moved in front of him and bent down, hooking his arms beneath Bud's shoulders to stand him up. It was some kind of sick joke, it had to be. "Hey, hey! Bud, honey, wake up!"

Bud didn't stir; he didn't do anything, so Tolbert lifted his head. And then he screamed.

Tolbert had never screamed like that before. The scream echoed around him, sounding like an injured animal, his eyes locked on his baby brother's face. Bud had been shot through the left side of his head, the powder burn giving away that it had been at point-blank range. Bud's hazel eyes that were usually so full of life were completely lifeless.

"Bud, nonono, wake up, honey, _wake up!_" Tolbert pleaded. "Bud, please, stop it! Stop! Wake up, Buddy, _please!_ Oh God, Bud."

A sob tore from his throat as his hand slid down to where Bud's heart was. There was a crimson stain there, a liquid that Tolbert wished he never felt. His seventeen-year-old brother was dead.

"Bud, oh my God," Tolbert whimpered, fixing the boy's hair to where it covered the gunshot wound.

He carefully stepped back, spotting Pharmer on the tree beside Bud's.

"Oh, not you too. Nonono, Pharmer, no!"

Pharmer was still and limp, just like Bud, only he had a gunshot wound in the back of his head rather than the front. Someone had shot him to ensure he was dead. Why hadn't that been done to Tolbert?

Tolbert slowly made his way up the hill, wincing and hissing with each movement. He had to get home; he had to tell them what was going on. He had to tell them that Pharmer and Bud were dead.

—

When Tolbert reached the McCoy cabin, he felt lightheaded. He stumbled into the post and drew in a shaky breath.

He looked up as the door opened, finding his father.

"Tolbert?"

"Poppy," he muttered. "Poppy, the pawpaw patch—"

"What happened t' ya, son? Get in here, come on."

Ran'l grasped Tolbert's bicep and led him inside, his second-eldest son following him without an argument. Ran'l led Tolbert to the room he shared with Sally, closing the door.

"What happened, Tolbert?"

"They're dead, Poppy," Tolbert sobbed. "Bud n Pharmer 're dead! They shot 'em through the head, Poppy. They're — they're riddled wit' bullets, tied t' pawpaw trees. I don't — I don't feel s' good, Poppy."

"Yeah, I'd say ya don't, son. Sit down, there ya go. They're in the pawpaw patch?"

"Mhm," Tolbert nodded as Ran'l unbuttoned his shirt. "They're dead."

"I know that. Ya r'member who done it?" Ran'l questioned, wrestling Tolbert's bloodstained shirt off of him.

"Don't r'member much of anythin' right yet," Tolbert admitted. "Think I hit my head real hard after I lost consciousness."

Ran'l hummed in displeasure.

"I'm gonna go get what I need t' clean yer wounds. Don't move, a'ight?"

"A'ight."

Ran'l left the room, leaving Tolbert alone.

Tolbert was trying to piece together what had happened. The last thing he remembered was Sally visiting them in that cursed schoolhouse. He could remember Bud bursting into tears the second she left and clinging to him, repeating, "I don't want t' die!" over and over again.

He remembered Bud mumbling something he hadn't understood, remembered Pharmer paling as they heard the Hatfields outside talking with one another. He could remember the way 'Lias and Skunk Hair had come in the schoolhouse, the way they roughly jerked Bud away from him and bound their wrists. The one thing Tolbert remembered most when he last made eye contact with Bud was the fear that shone in his hazel eyes.

They'd been tied to a raft and taken across the river to the pawpaw patch. None of them said a word during the journey — they didn't say anything when they reached their destination either.

He could remember thinking that Bud was so scared he thought he might do something irrational, but he didn't. He complied with them and didn't put up a fight.

Tolbert wished he could forget the way Bud started to sob. He wished he could forget the way he could hear his baby brother crying because he _knew _he was going to die for something he didn't do. Tolbert barely remembered Devil Anse saying, "Harden your hearts." before firing on them.

That was the last thing he remembered. He was glad for it, too. He wasn't sure he'd want to remember anything after that.

"Tolbert, honey?"

Tolbert gasped as he realized Sally was in front of him, his blue eyes wide with panic.

"Woah! It's alright, it's just me. I'm gonna clean your wounds, honey. Yer Poppy's went t' fetch Bud n Pharmer."

"They're dead, Mama," he whispered hoarsely. "_They're dead._"

"I know," her voice dropped in volume. "Yer Poppy told me. Hold still, a'ight?"

"A'ight."

Tolbert grunted as she pressed the cloth against his shoulder, his right hand tightly gripping the sheet beneath his palm. _Oh God, _it hurt. It was an excruciating pain that seemed to set his entire arm on fire, Tolbert giving a quiet whine as Sally continued to clean it.

But it didn't compare to the pain in his chest. His heart had shattered the instant he realized Bud wasn't living, and it had somehow shattered again when he realized Pharmer wasn't living either.

Tolbert wasn't sure what he was going to do at this point — he'd lost two of his baby brothers, the two he was closest to. All he knew was that there was a deep, aching pain in his chest that wouldn't go away for a long while.

"What happened, darlin'?"

"They tried t' kill all of us," Tolbert responded softly, almost numbly. "I don't know how I lived."

"Well, obviously God wanted ya t' live for a reason, Tolbert. I don't rightly know that reason, but I believe there's a reason why you survived it. Don't necessarily make it any easier for any of us, but we got one of ya back alive."

"Must be punishment. I'll suffer more alive than I would dead."

"Tolbert, don't say things like that," Sally chided.

"It's the truth, Mama. Bud was innocent. He didn't do nothin' but throw a punch or two in that stupid fight. He got scared n he ran with us. Bud didn't do anythin', Mama."

Sally sighed as she bandaged the wound, her eyes meeting his.

"I know it's hard for you, Tolbert. It's hard for all of us. I can't say anythin' that'll make ya think any different on the matter, but I can tell ya what I think. An' what I think is that God has ya here for a reason — a good reason. Nothin' t' do with punishments or sufferin'. I think ya gotta sit 'round n think on it once yer grief gets a little better. Yer a good boy, Tolbert. Ya didn't do nothin' t' deserve what you n yer brothers went through."

"Killed a man, Mama," Tolbert sighed. "I killed a man. So did Pharmer."

"Did ya mean t' kill him?"

"God, no! I never even thought... I was jus' s' mad n then he hit Bud real hard and busted his nose for 'im, knocked him off balance an' sent him right t' the ground. I stabbed him harder after he did that. Bud was jus' tryin' t' get him off me."

Tolbert gasped as Sally pressed the cloth to his side. Sally murmured an apology while cleaning the wound. Tolbert bit down harshly on his lip to keep from crying out.

She cleaned his back as well, as both bullets had torn straight through him. Sally was grateful for that. She wasn't sure if her son would put up a fight or not if he had to have the bullet removed, and she'd rather not find out. Sally knew that Tolbert was in shock — that despite feeling excruciating pain, the adrenaline still hadn't fully worn off — and she was hoping she could get him upstairs in bed before he snapped out of it.

And after thinking about it while she wrapped a bandage around him, she decided it would be best for him to stay where he was. She tied off the bandage, looking at Tolbert, who looked miserable.

"Why don't ya lay down, honey? Try t' rest a little."

Tolbert slowly shook his head. He shouldn't have even been there. He should be dead, just like Pharmer and Bud were. Bud should be living, not Tolbert. Tolbert was guilty while Bud was innocent.

He'd never understood how Bud had gotten so close to him. The two were polar opposites when it came to their personalities and their tendencies, so how did Bud get as close to him as he had? Bud was level-headed — the most level-headed out of the five McCoy boys. Tolbert was undeniably hot-headed and easily took the crown when it came to being the most hot-headed McCoy boy. He'd taken after his father in that way while Bud took after their mother, though Bud was a force to be reckoned with when he was angry.

Bud hadn't really been angry when he joined in that fight. He'd done it mostly because he was told to, not because he wanted to. Bud had the worst habit of listening to what his family told him to do, trusting that they wouldn't get him into a heap of trouble. Tolbert had told him time and time again not to listen to Squirrel or Paris or Jefferson. "They'll getcha in trouble without thinkin' twice 'bout it."

But Bud hadn't listened. Maybe it was because Tolbert and Pharmer were getting thrown around like rag dolls, he honestly had no clue as to why Bud joined that stupid fight. Tolbert should have stopped it then and there. A _seventeen-year-old child _had gotten involved and was fighting a man that was more than twice his age.

"Tolbert? Tolbert, Mama sent me in. Says ya need someone t' talk to."

"I'm fine, Calvin."

"Oh, yes," Calvin drawled sarcastically as he closed the door behind him. "You're totally fine when ya got two bullet holes in ya."

"Better than havin' 'em all over me n in my head like Pharmer n Bud," Tolbert said softly, his throat constricting. "_Oh God, _they got killed 'cause of me!"

Calvin had never seen his older brother break down the way he was now. Tolbert drew in a sharp breath that sounded more like a wheeze, wiping at his eyes as his chest collapsed with another sob.

Calvin walked over to him, crouching down and wiping the tears off of Tolbert's face.

"Tolbert, ya need t' lay down."

"N-no."

"_Tolbert, _lay down."

Tolbert's eyes met Calvin's and he slowly nodded. He slowly shifted to where he laid down, Calvin heaving a sigh of relief as he stood up and rounded the bed, getting on it and lying beside Tolbert. He knew when his brother needed comfort and when he didn't, and right now, Tolbert needed all the comfort he could possibly get.

"Ya shoulda heard 'im after Mama left," Tolbert spoke in a soft whisper. "He grabbed onto me n kept sayin, "I don't want t' die!" over n over 'gain. He was _so scared, _Cal. I got an innocent seventeen-year-old boy killed for somethin' he didn't do. Him n Pharmer never shoulda got involved in that fight."

"Tol, ya didn't do—"

"I started a dagon fight," Tolbert cut him off, his voice taking an edge to it. "I started that stupid fight that ended up bein' more than a dang fistfight. We sticked him an' we shot him. Bud didn't do nothin' but try t' get him off me. That's all Bud did, Cal, I swear."

"I know. Sammy n Paris told me what happened. My God, Tolbert, don't it hurt when ya cry with those wounds?"

"Yeah, but it don't hurt as much as my heart. I don't think it's s'pposed t' feel the way it does," Tolbert forced out, sniffling. "I got them in that fight. I shoulda left well 'nough alone when Ell'son tried t' stop the fight 'tween me n 'Lias. I got 'em killed, Cal. Oh God, they're dead 'cause o' me."

"Tolbert, ya can't blame yourself for someone else's actions," Calvin stated in a soft voice. "Ya didn't know they were gonna kill y'all. Ya didn't know Ellison was gonna die. Stop blamin' yourself."

"You wasn't the one locked in that schoolhouse with them for two days. Ya didn't see Bud screamin' that he hated me, or the way he tried hittin' me, or how he just completely _broke. _I don't know how else t' d'scribe what he did. He broke, that's all I can say."

"What d'ya mean he broke?"

"It was late in the evenin' when he finally spoke up n asked if I thought we were gonna get outta there. I told him it was a possibility. He shook his head n argued that Jim Vance wa'n't gonna let any of us leave West Virginia alive. H-he got real mad when I told him Poppy'd come get us. Said Poppy wasn't gonna do squat n that he'd rather die than have Poppy die 'cause he was tryin' t' get t' us.

"So Pharmer joined in the conversation. I could tell he really didn't want to, but he was tryin' t' calm Bud down. He just made it worse. So Bud started screamin', sayin' it was all my fault we were in that mess in the first place. Said we were a bunch of morons for stickin' him n shootin' him. Can't say he was wrong about that, but I don't think I'd ever seen Bud that mad before.

"After goin' back an' forth for a minute, he started screamin' again. Told me he hated me n he hoped I was the first one that died outta the three of us. He tried t' hit me but I wouldn't let him. He started cryin' then. We ended up sittin' 'gainst the wall n I thought he'd gone t' sleep. He hadn't said a word or moved for so long that I just... never mind. He — he asked me if I hated him after what he said t' me. Told him no, that he had every right t' say it 'cause he was completely innocent an' had no business bein' there."

"He apologized for it?"

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded slightly, his gaze fixated on the ceiling. "He 'pologized. Said he didn't mean none of it. I knew he didn't, Bud hardly ever means a thing he says when he's mad like that. He's like me, he jus' says the first thing that comes t' mind an' it's hurtful, but he's got enough mind t' 'pologize n try t' fix it after he calms down."

"Are you alright? Ya don't believe he actually meant that, do ya?"

"Nah, I know he didn't. I can tell when Bud means somethin' an' when he don't. He's a good person with a good heart n a good soul. I wouldn't've blamed him if he did mean it, though. I wish they woulda killed me first, too."

"Tolbert!" Calvin chided. "Quit sayin' things like that!"

"Ya want me t' be honest, don't ya?" Tolbert turned his head toward him, his ice-blue eyes revealing just how much pain he was in.

"Yes, but — but _my God, _Tolbert!" Calvin sputtered. "I just... ya can't say things like that. Ya jus' can't. I don't want ya dead, don't want any of ya dead, but I'd rather get one of ya back alive than none at all."

"Ya should have Bud here wit' ya. Not me. I — I hate that Pharmer died, I really do, but if they wanted justice, it shoulda been the two of us that sticked n shot Ellison. Not the one that threw a few punches."

"I understand what yer sayin', Tolbert, but ya know as well as I do if ya coulda stopped Pharmer from runnin', ya would've. Ya woulda stopped both of 'em and took all the blame yerself."

"Only right," Tolbert whispered. "I'm the reason they got in that fight."

"Stop that. If they didn't wanna join that stupid fight, they wouldn't-a done it. Ya know how Bud was — he'd do anythin' an' everythin' if it meant that you were safe, Tolbert. You're Bud's fav'rite, he loved ya. He loved ya more than I've ever seen anybody love someone. An' Pharmer wa'n't gonna let Ellison hurt ya neither. He loved ya too, but he didn't love ya as much as Bud did. Don't think any of us will ever love ya that much."

Tolbert gave a weak laugh. It was forced and got caught in his throat, but he knew that Calvin had a point. Despite everything he'd thought of since he discovered they were dead, he knew, logically, that his brothers wouldn't do anything they didn't want to do.

He'd been told for years that Bud was like him in that way — that Bud was just as stubborn as Tolbert was and that he'd likely picked up that trait by clinging to Tolbert when he was a child. He was undeniably the most level-headed out of the five McCoy boys, but he didn't have to be angry to be stubborn. On the rare occasion that he and Tolbert did get in an argument, his stubbornness would make an appearance, and Tolbert would remind him that he was more stubborn than Bud could ever be. At that point, Bud usually huffed and pouted for a while, deciding he'd ignore Tolbert rather than argue with him.

Pharmer was stubborn as well, but he wasn't nearly as stubborn as Bud was. Pharmer would give in after about five minutes, Bud wouldn't. An argument with Pharmer only lasted about five or ten minutes, depending on the subject and how angry Pharmer was, as he had the tendency to be hot-headed. An argument with Bud could last for hours if he didn't stop and ignore Tolbert at some point.

So in that sense, Bud could be a lot more stubborn than Pharmer. Pharmer gave in while Bud stood his ground, and he rarely backed down. There had been one point that Bud reminded Tolbert that he'd told him to always stand his ground, to do what he thought was right no matter how difficult it was or the ridicule he may receive for it. He'd told Bud to stand his ground. And for a few moments, Tolbert regretted telling him that.

But then he'd seen his baby brother take up for their sister, who'd been shamed enough, and Tolbert beamed with pride. Bud was one that couldn't be moved when it came to his beliefs, and he happened to believe that Roseanna was still a wonderful person, despite being with child before she was married.

Bud had absolutely adored Sarah Elizabeth the eight months she lived. He'd gone to see her once and fell in love with her, and made frequent visits to Aunt Betty's home just to see his sister and his niece. Tolbert remembered how heartbroken he'd been when he came home the day she died; how he'd told Tolbert that he'd picked her up and she was ice cold and wasn't breathing.

Then Bud started to go more often because of Roseanna. Roseanna depended on Bud. Bud was the only person who fully understood her ongoing grief, the one person she trusted enough to grieve in front of him. Bud would come home each time he went to see her and find Tolbert, and he'd wrap his arms tightly around him and sob into his shoulder. He _never _cried in front of Roseanna.

"Oh God," Tolbert breathed, realizing Roseanna hadn't the slightest idea that Bud had been brutally murdered. "_Oh God._"

"What're ya sayin' that for?" Calvin queried, shifting to where he could see Tolbert.

"Roseanna."

—

Tolbert knocked on the door to Aunt Betty's home, biting down on his lower lip. He hadn't fully thought his plan through; all he knew was that someone had to tell Roseanna and he happened to be that someone. It was his fault, after all, so he should be the one to take the reaction Roseanna was going to have.

"Tolbert?" Aunt Betty raised her brows as she opened the door. "What're you doin' here?"

"I need t' talk with Rose. It's important."

Aunt Betty stepped out of his way, letting him enter the house. "She's upstairs in her room — first door on the left."

"Thank ya."

Tolbert slowly made his way upstairs, his hand clamping over his side. A gunshot wound hurt a lot more than he anticipated it would. He gave a quiet whimper as he reached the top of the stairs, releasing a shaky breath as he turned to the left, finding an open door.

He gently rapped on it with his knuckle, standing in the doorway and gazing at his sister. She was pale and was beginning to look sickly, her blonde hair pulled back in a braid while she sat on her bed, staring down at her hands in her lap.

"Tolbert?"

"Yeah. I — I need t' talk to ya, Rose. I have news for ya."

"I take it ain't good?"

"'Fraid it ain't."

"Come sit down, Tolbert. Tell me what's happened."

Tolbert hesitantly did as he was told, crossing the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. He bit down on his lip, trying to think of a way to tell her what had happened while also softening the blow a little.

"Ya hear 'bout Election Day?" he inquired. He'd have to start from the very beginning if she didn't.

"Can't say I do. Ain't got no one t' tell me these things anymore, Tolbert," she reminded him.

"Oh... W-well, I got in a argument wit' 'Lias Hatfield. Ellison stopped that 'fore it got real bad, but then 'Lias insulted me n I lost my temper. Ell'son caught my arm an' I punched him. Started a fight. Pharmer joined in, then Bud. At some point, Pharmer drew his knife n started stickin' him. I did the same thing. I think Bud was on the ground 'cause Ellison was throwin' him 'round like a rag doll.

"Pharmer ended up stumblin' away n I kept on stabbin' Ellison. He was hittin' my back, hittin' the back of my neck n my head. Bud tried gettin' him off me, but Ellison's arm came back n he busted Bud's nose for 'im. Bud fell down, I got thrown, and Pharmer shot him when me n Bud stood up. One of our idiot cousins threw him a knife n told 'im t' stick 'im, but Bud couldn't-a done that. He never had the chance to, anyway.

"He dropped the knife n Pharmer dropped his gun. We ran. Bud panicked and ran with us. We got caught by the sheriff, then we were captured by the Hatfields. We were held in a barn on Devil Anse's property 'til Poppy came n talked to him. Then we were moved t' that abandoned schoolhouse on Mate Creek. We stayed there for two days. Ellison died on the ninth, an' Mama came n saw us."

Tolbert took a second to gain control of himself. He wouldn't lose his composure in front of Roseanna.

"They took us 'cross the Tug, tied us t' pawpaw trees, an' they shot us. I remember guns goin' off, but I don't remember anythin' after that 'til I woke up. They'd made sure Bud n Pharmer were dead. They had a shot... never mind, ya don't need t' know that. But they're dead, Rose."

It took Roseanna a moment to process what he said. Pharmer and Bud were dead. They were dead because of a fight gone wrong that Tolbert had started.

"My God," she breathed. "My brothers are dead?"

"Yes. They should still be livin', but they ain't. I'm sorry," Tolbert whispered brokenly. "I'm so sorry."

"Bert, this ain't your fault," she murmured, reaching out and cupping his face. "You didn't kill 'em."

"They wouldn't've been there if it wa'n't fer me," he argued weakly. "Oh _God, _Rose! I got 'em killed!"

"Ya did no such thing. Come here, Bert."

He moved to where he sat beside her, his head guided to her shoulder as a tear slid down his face. Tolbert clung to his younger sister, a quiet sob escaping through his lips.

"I'm so sorry, Rosie."

"Oh, don't be that way, Tol. Ya didn't do nothin'. You didn't kill them."

"They got killed because of me, Roseanna. I can't even go upstairs t' that room. Bud left half his clothes thrown ev'rywhere 'cause we were runnin' late an' I just — I can't go up there, Rose."

"Tolbert, I want ya t' listen t' me, understand?"

Tolbert nodded slightly.

"None of this was your fault. A'ight, so ya shouldn't've started that fight, an' ya shouldn't've stabbed Ellison, but what happened to Pharmer n Bud was _not _your fault. That is on the Hatfields. Not you. They're the ones that spilled innocent blood, Bert."

"I tried, I tried so hard t' keep him safe for seventeen years. I tried my best t' keep 'em both safe. For _nineteen years,_ I've been tryin' t' keep my baby brothers safe. An' I end up gettin' 'em killed. I don't know what t' do anymore, Rose. I can't — I ain't gonna be able t' just stand there when they bury them t'morrow. It's my fault, I'm the one that should be dead. I started it. I did most of the cuttin'. I didn't see Pharmer with his gun, I swear I didn't. I had no idea he'd even pulled it 'til he shot him."

"Ya have t' go, Tolbert. None of it's your fault, none of ya should be dead. All of ya are strong young men that need t' live out the rest of your lives. An' even though I know ya started that dumb fight, none of ya deserved t' die. I highly doubt ya meant t' kill Ellison. I know how ya are when ya get mad, Tolbert. Ya don't think straight."

Tolbert's throat constricted as he fought against his tears. A lump formed in his throat, him licking his lips as he attempted to regain his composure. He never should have broken down in front of Roseanna. Roseanna was going through enough without him breaking down the way he had in front of her.

"I'm gonna go," he said after a moment. "I don't think Poppy'll give me much of a choice in the matter. I have t' go. It's only right that I'm there. If I'm alive, it's for a reason, n no matter what Mama says, I still b'lieve it's punishment. I'll suffer a lot more this way than I would if I was dead."

Roseanna shot him an empathetic look. She knew what it felt like to lose someone — she'd been disowned and then she'd lost her daughter. Roseanna mourned for people that were still alive and had been pleasantly surprised when she discovered that some of them didn't care to visit her. And it was only a short while after that that she mourned her daughter, whom she loved dearly.

Roseanna understood exactly how Tolbert felt. Tolbert had taken both Pharmer and Bud under his wing, had tried his very best to keep both of them safe, but now he was living and they were dead. She knew Tolbert was blaming himself and that right now, he wouldn't listen to anybody, no matter who it was or how many times they swore to him it wasn't his fault.

And maybe all he needed to get through it was love. If the rest of the family showed Tolbert that they loved him, that they held no malice toward him, maybe he could push past the thought that it was his fault. Roseanna wasn't certain it would work, but she was willing to try.

"Bert."

Tolbert craned his neck and looked up at her. "Yeah, Rose?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

—

Tolbert clenched his jaw as he stood beside Jim, fighting against the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes. He felt Jim take hold of his hand and give it a gentle squeeze, a silent way of assuring Tolbert that he was there.

He hated watching them lower the coffins into the ground. He hated that he had to stand there at all, witnessing the horrid aftermath of the horrific event that had occurred just two days prior. He should be in a coffin, not Bud. Not Pharmer either. Neither one of them were at fault when it came to starting that fight.

Tolbert's legs gave out.

He cried out when Jim caught him around his waist, his older brother's arm slapping against his wound.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," he mumbled, helping Tolbert back to his feet.

"'S okay," he forced out. He deserved a lot more than that for what he'd caused. He swallowed thickly, watching their mother bend down and pick up a handful of dirt.

Jim kept his hands on Tolbert's shoulder and back. It was just as a precaution, as he knew how much his younger brother was hurting and knew that nothing he said or did would help him much. The most Jim could do was be there for him. He'd be there to catch him when he fell and he'd be a shoulder to lean and cry on.

"C'mon, Tolbert," he murmured as he turned to follow their mother. "Let's go home."

—

Tolbert collapsed the second they reached the McCoy farm. Jim knelt in front of him, holding him and rocking him back and forth as he wailed, his hands tightly clenching the fabric of Jim's shirt.

Jim had expected this. He'd known that his younger brother wouldn't be able to keep it all together for long, and had honestly expected it to happen a lot sooner than it did. From the moment Jim heard about the incident, he'd known instantly that Tolbert would take it the hardest.

Tolbert didn't understand it. Why had he lived and an innocent _child _died? Tolbert was ten years Bud's senior, could easily overpower the boy if he wanted to, so why had he let him join in that fight?

Bud was undeniably a strong, stout boy who could hold his ground, but Tolbert was still a little stronger than him. He could have stopped Pharmer, too, who often lost fights to Bud and would turn red-faced while he swore he'd win the next one. Bud would laugh at him, which only made his anger grow, and Bud was usually knocked to the ground at that point.

Tolbert couldn't understand why Jim was holding him the way he was. Tolbert was the reason why they'd lost their baby brothers. Tolbert was the reason why they'd been kidnapped by the Hatfields and held prisoner in West Virginia for two agonizing days, only to be dragged out and shot in retaliation for something they never should have had a hand in.

And sure, Tolbert knew Pharmer did more than throw a few punches, but he still felt that he didn't deserve to die. If any of them deserved to die, it was Tolbert. He'd been the one to start it, so why shouldn't he be the one to perish for it?

"Tolbert, honey, you've got t' breathe."

Tolbert sucked in a sharp, wheezing breath, his chest collapsing again as he held tightly to Jim. Tolbert wasn't sure he deserved any type of comfort, but he wasn't complaining. He needed someone and he knew he could depend on Jim. Even if Jim disagreed with him or believed something Tolbert didn't, Jim would always be there for him.

"C'mon, let's getcha inside n int' bed."

"N-no! No, I can't go in that room! D-don't make me go in there, Jim," he whimpered, begging his older brother to listen to him. He couldn't go in that room. He'd shared that room with Bud for thirteen years, he couldn't go back in it when he knew he was the reason why Bud wasn't there anymore.

"A'ight, a'ight, ya ain't goin' back in there. You sit down in that chair on the porch, wait for me. I'm gonna getcha some clothes n you're gonna stay with me a little while. Jus' 'til you feel like you can go in your room again."

"I can't go in that room again," Tolbert shook his head. Bud had his clothes strewn across the floor, as they'd been running late and he'd hurried to find what he wanted to wear.

_"It's gotta be this one, Tol. It's the coolest one I've got."_

So in his haste to find his white shirt, he'd thrown every other article of clothing he owned over his shoulder, creating a mess that he swore he'd clean up the instant they got home.

Only he never came home.

Tolbert looked up as Jim returned. When had he even left Tolbert's side? Tolbert couldn't recall Jim leaving him.

"Come on, Tolbert. You're gonna stay with me a while."

Tolbert nodded mutely and stood up, following his older brother down to his wagon.

—

"Where the heck do you think you're a-goin'?"

Tolbert gasped and whirled around, his hand immediately moving to cover his wound as he let out a pained breath.

"I—I—"

"You were gonna try t' go t' that dang cemetery, weren't ya?" Jim's eyes scanned his younger brother, noticing the stained clothes.

"I just... I wanna talk to 'em," Tolbert mumbled lowly, hanging his head.

Jim sighed, his eyes filling with sympathy. He wasn't stupid — he knew Tolbert would try it. He knew that his brother, who had _two gunshot wounds, _would try his very best to sneak out. Tolbert blamed himself for it. He partially blamed the Hatfields, but he laid most of the blame at his own feet.

Tolbert stood there, head hung low while his eyes watered. It was so unlike Tolbert that Jim's heart broke a little. It was almost as though his hot-headed younger brother who felt every emotion under the sun had disappeared and had been replaced with someone who only felt guilt and shame and despair. He'd been replaced with someone completely different.

"Tolbert."

Tolbert hesitantly lifted his gaze, sniffling. He hadn't thought that Jim was awake. He hadn't thought that Jim would be standing in the kitchen and would catch him when he tried to sneak out. The house had been so silent that Tolbert thought he could get away with it.

"Come here, Tolbert."

He obeyed. He shuffled over to Jim, refusing to meet his gaze. Tolbert swallowed thickly to rid himself of the lump in his throat, only to have another form in its place.

Tolbert bit down harshly on his lip to keep it from quivering. He hated that he was like a small, frightened child who'd been caught doing something they'd been told not to.

"I'm sorry."

"Why would ya wanna go out in this weather, Tol?" Jim questioned, brushing the few ginger curls out of Tolbert's eyes.

"Gotta talk to 'em. It ain't right, Jim," he rasped.

"Honey, it sounds like ya need _rest. _You can talk to 'em t'morrow."

"No, I have t' do it now—"

"Tolbert, I want ya t' listen t' me. You're gonna come in my room an' we're gonna talk 'til you fall asleep. Ya can't go out in that storm, Tol. You'll catch your death."

"Would that be so bad?" Tolbert retorted, his eyes snapping up and meeting Jim's. "I don't want to be livin'. I don't know how or why I lived through that, but I wish I hadn't! I wish I woulda died! I do, I wish I woulda _died! _I wish they woulda shot me through the head!"

"_Tolbert McCoy!_" Jim raised his voice, drowning Tolbert's out. Tolbert clammed up and hung his head again. "Don't say things like that. I mean, I want ya t' talk t' me, I want ya t' be honest with me, but — but I don't necessarily like hearin' my younger brother tell me he wishes he woulda been shot through the head."

"Sorry," he croaked. "I'm _so sorry. _I didn't mean t' get 'em killed, Jim, honest I didn't."

"I know. It wasn't your fault, baby."

Tolbert didn't let anyone but Sally and Jim call him _baby. _Ran'l always called him _Tol, Bert, _or _son, _so he didn't really have to give him permission to call him baby. Ran'l used to call him that when he was much younger, but after a certain point, it faded away.

He wasn't entirely sure why he allowed Jim to call him that. Maybe it was because Jim was the only older sibling he had and he felt that he had the right to. Maybe it was because Tolbert knew that no matter what, Jim would never intentionally embarrass him with the nickname in public. He'd had plenty of opportunities to do so and he never had.

And he really didn't mind it. He didn't mind his older brother calling him _baby. _He wouldn't say that he enjoyed it, but he found it to be tolerable and didn't mind it nearly as much as he thought he would. To be quite frank about it, Tolbert thought nothing of it. It was something that was natural for the two of them, just like Tolbert had called Bud _baby._

It was something that was done without a second thought. Bud had never minded Tolbert calling him baby, so Tolbert did and he found that he did more often than he thought. Bud had the tendency to have terrifying dreams that would cause him to wake in the middle of the night frightened out of his wits, so Tolbert would do his very best to calm him down, and it often included a phrase that was something like: "Shh, it's okay, baby, I promise it's okay."

"C'mon, honey. Let's get ya t' my room 'fore ya collapse on me," Jim muttered, gently grasping Tolbert's bicep and leading him to his room.

Tolbert winced and made a noise in the back of his throat as he slowly lowered himself to the bed, huffing in relief once he laid on his back. Jim laid down beside him, shifting onto his side, facing Tolbert.

"Ya miss 'em, Jim?" Tolbert inquired, his voice barely a murmur.

"I do," Jim nodded ever since slightly. "I miss 'em a lot, Tolbert. It's diff'rent... knowin' I can't go t' them any time I want to anymore."

"Yeah..."

"What about you? Y' miss 'em, Tol?"

"I miss them more than anything."

"Tolbert... why don't ya wanna go in your room?"

"It ain't my room. It's mine n Bud's room. He left his clothes thrown ev'rywhere on Election Day, swore he'd clean it up when he got home, but he never got the chance to. He never got the chance to because of me. I can't go in that room and lay down on the bed I shared with him. I can't even think about it. I never shoulda let him join that fight."

"Ya know ya wouldn't've been able ta stop him. Quit tryin' t' make it out like it's your fault. You ain't the one that pulled the trigger."

"No... I'm the one that sticked Ellison over n over 'gain. He woulda lived from that shot if he hadn't had so many stab wounds. It was a gutshot. Tore straight through him, too. Ellison would have lived if I hadn't stabbed him."

"Pharmer had a part in that too, didn't he?"

"Yeah."

"And I reckon, in that head of yours, ya got it in yer mind that ya coulda stopped him from joinin' that fight, too?"

"I coulda. Pharmer didn't really fight me all that often. Bud... Bud's completely diff'rent. He woulda fought me n then he woulda fought Ellison. Once he got mad there was no stoppin' him, an' if I'd've tried t' stop him, he woulda been angry."

"And rightly so. Ya can't keep 'em safe forever, Tolbert. Eventually, ya gotta let 'em get hurt a little, let 'em learn how to take care of themselves."

"Yeah, well, they got killed for takin' my side in a fight they had no business gettin' involved with. That don't exactly make me feel like the best person in the world, Jim," Tolbert lashed out.

"And I know Pharmer and Bud wouldn't've joined in that fight if they didn't want to. You're not gonna win this one, Tolbert. Get some sleep."

—

**_October 1882_**

Tolbert bit down on his lip as he walked through the cemetery, stopping in front of Bud's grave. He crouched down, placing his fingers to his lips before placing them against the stone, letting them linger.

"Happy birthday, baby," Tolbert whispered brokenly. "Well... reckon ya ain't a baby no more. Ya'd be eighteen if ya were here with me. I'm sorry I ever let ya get close t' me, Buddy. I knew I'd end up gettin' ya hurt, but I never thought... You don't know how much I regret lettin' you get close t' me. I shoulda pushed ya 'way, I shouldn't-a encouraged you.

"I'm sorry for bein' a terrible older brother. Y-ya dealt wit' me comin' home drunk on more than one occasion an' ya never complained, even on the nights I was real mean to ya. I got ya in trouble when I told Poppy that ya went n told Rose that we had Johnse up at Uncle Harmon's place. It wa'n't Calvin that told it — it was _me. _And I'm so sorry for that. My God, I didn't think he'd—he'd say what he did. I'm sorry ya heard what he said. I'm sorry ya thought those words were true. Oh God, honey, I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for ever lettin' ya in that fight, I'm sorry I didn't think t' keep ya from runnin', I'm sorry ya got killed 'cause of me. _I'm so sorry, _baby."

Tolbert burst into a heart-wrenching sob, his hands quickly moving and covering his face. He stayed like that for a moment, then slowly shifted to where he laid on Bud's grave, his hand gently curling around the grass there. He swallowed thickly, trying to suppress the tears that wished to fall.

"I love you s' much," he whimpered. "I'm sorry."

—

Tolbert startled awake when someone grasped his arm. After seeing Jim looking down at him with tired, concerned eyes, Tolbert relaxed.

"Tolbert, what are ya doin' out here?"

"Had t' talk t' Bud," he mumbled groggily. "I miss 'im s' much."

"I know ya do, baby, but ya can't be sleepin' on his grave. 'Specially not with a storm comin' in," Jim tried to reason with him.

Despite being four years older than Tolbert, Jim felt like he was Tolbert's parent at this point. Tolbert had made it plain that he didn't want to go back to that room, that no matter what anyone said or did, he wouldn't step one foot into that room, so Jim agreed to let him live with him.

Jim was at his wits end, though, and didn't know what he could _possibly _do to keep Tolbert from sneaking off to their graves. He'd told him countless times that he could go during the day; that there really wasn't a need to sneak out in the middle of the night and stop Jim's heart every time he realized Tolbert was gone again. He'd tried everything but forcing Tolbert to sleep in his room, and he really wasn't sure how well that would go.

So each time Tolbert disappeared, Jim went out to the cemetery dressed in nothing but an undershirt and a pair of pants, and he usually didn't even bother to grab his coat no matter how chilly the night was. He would pull on his boots, but he never took the time to tuck his pant legs in them like he usually did.

This time, however, Jim hadn't noticed until the sun had already risen. Tolbert had spent the night out in the cemetery, and now his pale skin and ginger hair were caked with dirt. Jim never got angry with him; Tolbert was hurting. He knew that Tolbert was just trying to find a way to lessen the pain, and he couldn't bring himself to be mad at him over it.

"Let's go home, Tol. Ya stayed out here all night. I'm sure Bud would appreciate that, honey."

"Y' think he would? He might hate me," Tolbert spoke softly, uncertainly. It put Jim in mind of a small child. "I got him killed."

"Bud would never hate ya, Tol. He loved ya too much t' do that. Randolph McCoy, Junior loved you more than anyone else in this world. No matter what you think ya did, Tolbert, he always loved ya. Bud loved you."

"He shouldn't've."

"C'mere, baby." Jim gently pulled him up to a sitting position before pulling him close. Tolbert's head fell against his shoulder. "Once we get ya home, I'll bring the tub in. Ya need a bath."

"No, no, I don't wanna leave—"

"I know, I know," Jim cooed. "You can't go 'round with all this dirt on ya, Tolbert."

Tolbert hadn't been the same in the last few months. Jim found that he preferred his little brother to be a hot-headed moron rather than the meek person he'd become.

Tolbert never got mad anymore.

And maybe that shouldn't have scared Jim the way that it did, but he found that to be more terrifying than Tolbert's ill-tempered ways ever could be. He wasn't used to Tolbert just giving in at the slight raise of his voice, he wasn't used to Tolbert agreeing to anything and everything he said, he wasn't used to Tolbert practically begging for comfort each time he was found in the cemetery.

Jim wasn't used to Tolbert being meek. He wasn't used to Tolbert clinging to him and crying, he wasn't used to Tolbert sneaking out of the house to go to the cemetery, he wasn't used to Tolbert giving weak arguments and lame excuses each time Jim went to fetch him.

Tolbert wasn't the same.

And while the gossip women at their church had a few choice words about the matter, Jim felt that with time, Tolbert would get better. It was just hard for him right now; it was going to take a long time for Tolbert to heal.

"I don't wanna leave."

"Why not?" Jim asked. "Give me a good reason an' I'll let ya stay."

"I don't — I gotta stay, Jim, I gotta."

"_Why, _Tolbert? Why do ya gotta stay?"

"I jus' have to," he muttered lamely. "I have t' stay, I do."

"No, ya have t' go home." Jim pulled his fingers through Tolbert's ginger curls. "You know I'll let ya come out here whenever ya want. Ya don't have t' sneak out, Tol. Let's getcha home, hm?"

Tolbert slowly nodded. He wouldn't fight. Fighting was what got his brothers killed. Well... it was caused by him fighting. Tolbert had lost the will to fight. He knew a lot of people thought he'd gone insane, but he hadn't. He was just being cautious. He didn't want to cause any more deaths.

—

Tolbert's eyes slowly lifted as the door to Jim's cabin opened, revealing his older brother. He had two towels in his hands, a heavy sigh passing through his lips when he saw that his younger brother hadn't done anything but sit down in the tub.

He closed the door and crossed the room, setting the towels on the table before gathering a cup, a cloth, and the bar of soap. He knelt down beside the tub and glanced at Tolbert, who didn't move at all.

"Talk to me."

It was a simple instruction — three words that could have meant anything. Tolbert's ice-blue eyes met Jim's before shifting again.

Jim dunked the cup in the water and brought it up, letting the water roll off of Tolbert's shoulder and chest.

"Nothin' t' talk about."

"No? How 'bout you sleepin' in the cemetery last night?" Jim pressed, being sure to keep his voice soft and gentle. He had to now. If he didn't, Tolbert would clam up on him.

"Jus' fell 'sleep," Tolbert shrugged half-heartedly. "I didn't mean to."

Jim sighed as he started to wash Tolbert's shoulder.

"Why'd ya sneak out again?"

"Had t' talk t' Bud."

"You know you can go out there any time you want to. You don't have t' sneak out in the middle of the night. Ya scare me outta my wits when ya do that, Tolbert."

"'M sorry," he whimpered. "I don't mean t' scare ya."

"I know ya don't, but ya don't think the way I do when I get up n find ya ain't in your room. It scares me. I never know if ya've done somethin' t' yerself or what. I pray all the way t' the cemetery — pray that you're out there, safe n unharmed. God, I worry so much," Jim's voice started to tremble. "I worry about ya, baby. I can't lose you too."

Tolbert fell silent, blinking slowly. He licked his chapped lips and took a breath.

"You shoulda lost me instead."

Jim's heart broke for him. No matter what he said, Tolbert still believed with his whole heart that the entire incident had been his fault. He claimed responsibility for the murders of his younger brothers.

"I can't lose you after I just lost them," Jim spoke softly. "I _can't, _Tolbert."

Tolbert let Jim wash his chest and arms. He didn't fight him once, deciding it was easier to go along with it. Jim rinsed him off before wetting Tolbert's hair.

"Poppy blame me for it?" Tolbert queried, knowing that Jim had talked to their father recently.

"No, Poppy don't blame ya for it," Jim responded as he rubbed the bar of soap against his palm. He set it down and rubbed his hands together before he started to scrub at the dirt in Tolbert's hair.

"Mama?"

"No, Mama don't either."

"Someone's gotta. Who blames me for it?"

"If any of them do, they ain't told me."

"You blame me for it?" Tolbert lifted his eyes, meeting Jim's.

"No, I don't blame ya for it. Ya didn't mean t' kill Ellison. Ya didn't know the Hatfields would take y'all n try t' kill ya in such a cowardly way."

"Cowardly? Nah... they did it that way t' add t' the torment. They knew if one of us saw t' other die, we wouldn't be able t' reach 'em or protect 'em. For a bunch of cold-blooded murderers, they're right smart, Jim."

"I still say the way they did it was cowardly." Jim gave a shrug. "Close yer eyes, Tol. Don't want soap gettin' in 'em."

Tolbert closed his eyes, flinching when the water ran down his face. Tolbert wiped his eyes once Jim set the cup on the floor, blinking a few times before he turned his head toward him.

"I'm gonna go in my room so you can get dressed."

Tolbert nodded, watching him as he stood and left. Tolbert slowly got out of the tub, grabbing a towel and drying himself off. He dressed swiftly, grabbing the red shirt off of the table. He exhaled deeply and shook his head as he pulled it on, finding that it didn't fit him the way his shirts usually did.

And then it hit him.

It wasn't his shirt — it was Bud's.

Tolbert wrenched it off and threw it on the floor, stumbling back away from it. He and Bud hadn't had much difference in their height, but he'd been slightly taller than his baby brother, hence why the shirt didn't fit him the way it should have. Well... it fit him, he just didn't like the way it clung to him.

"Tol? Hey, what's wrong?"

"That's not my shirt!"

"What? It was in the chest in the corner of your ro—"

"The chest in the corner is Bud's. It's not mine."

"Tolbert, why—"

"They woulda just thrown it away. So I found all his stuff, put it in the chest n brought it with me. I can't — it's all I have left now, Jim. I don't have him anymore. All I've got is what he had."

"Oh," Jim breathed, suddenly understanding why his brother had brought a chest that wasn't his. "Oh, Tolbert."

"I couldn't let 'em throw his stuff away," Tolbert forced out. "I... it's nice t' have somethin', y'know? A few small pieces of him that I can look at whenever I'm brave enough to. A few things that can make me feel better or worse just by lookin' at 'em, there's no in-between with it. They were Bud's things, I couldn't let them get thrown out like they were absolutely nothin'."

"Alright... I'll go get ya a diff'rent shirt."

"N-no!" Tolbert exclaimed, his throat closing the second after the word tumbled from his lips. "Give it, I want to wear it."

Jim bent down, picking the shirt up and fixing it. _Progress, _he thought to himself. They were starting to make progress. Tolbert was willing to wear a shirt that belonged to Bud. He was opening up more.

He handed the shirt to Tolbert, who pulled it over his head and tucked it in. He looked up at Jim with teary eyes, chewing on his lower lip.

It felt _so wrong _to wear one of Bud's shirts. But at the same time, it provided a sense of comfort that Tolbert relished in. He wasn't really sure how he felt about it, but he would wear it. He'd told Jim that he would and he wouldn't lie to him.

"You ready t' go t' Mama n Poppy's? They want us there for supper."

"I reckon," Tolbert muttered.

—

"Is that Bud's shirt?"

The words flew from Alifair's mouth before she could stop them. Her eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth. It had been an unspoken rule not to mention Bud or Pharmer around Tolbert. They knew he was hurting, that he was grieving and blaming himself for their deaths, and they always tried to make it a little easier on him when he was there.

"Yeah, it is," Tolbert confirmed, nodding.

"How'd you get Bud's shirt?" Calvin pulled a face.

"I've got all of his things," Tolbert answered as though it was obvious. "I've had 'em since I moved in with Jim."

"Oh..."

"Tolbert, honey, yer Poppy wants t' talk t' ya," Sally told him as she entered the house, a bucket of water in hand.

"A'ight, Mama."

Tolbert turned and went out on the porch, finding his father sitting in his favorite rocking chair.

"Sit down, Tol."

Tolbert sat down beside him, staring straight ahead.

"How're ya doin', son?" Ran'l queried, glancing at his second-eldest.

"'Bout the same as b'fore. Really ain't gettin' no better. How're you, Poppy?"

"Survivin'," Ran'l sighed. "Take it day by day. Harder some days than it is others. Some days it's real hard t' accept I don't have my two youngest sons anymore. Days like t'day, the kind of days Bud loved. It was hard acceptin' it yesterday, too. He woulda been eighteen."

"I know," Tolbert whispered. "I went out there last night. Musta fell asleep 'cause I woke up with Jim over me. People think I've gone mad, Poppy."

"Who cares what people think? I know ya ain't gone mad. Yer grievin'. Don't mean ya've gone mad, Tol. Just means ya really love someone."

"I'm sorry I got them killed, Poppy. I'm sorry I got yer youngest sons ripped 'way from ya. Can't say I'd blame ya if ya hated me. I deserve it. I _deserve _t' be hated by all of ya. I'm so sorry, Poppy."

"I don't hate ya, none of us hates ya. We all love ya very much, Tolbert. We don't blame you for what happened, son. That is on Devil Anse an' his men. They're the ones that pulled the trigger."

"Don't mean I ain't guilty in it too, Poppy," he argued weakly. "I started that fight. I didn't stop it when Pharmer started stabbin' him. I stabbed him too. Bud didn't do a thing but try t' get him off me. Then when I was thrown... Pharmer shot him. I shoulda stopped it. I shoulda stopped it when they jumped in."

"Tolbert, ya can't blame yourself for this, son. It wasn't your fault. I know what was said, Sammy n Jefferson n Paris told me exactly what happened. Then Jim told me what ya told him 'bout the fight. I know what happened, Tolbert. An' even though ya did start that fight, Pharmer n Bud's deaths isn't your fault, nor have they ever been."

Tolbert hung his head, his chin touching his chest. He wished he could bring himself to believe that. He wished he could bring himself to believe that he wasn't responsible for their deaths, but he knew he was. It was as simple as that — Tolbert was responsible for the deaths of his two youngest brothers.

And it was slowly killing him just by knowing that.

Tolbert had already lost the will to fight. His will to live was starting to dwindle a little more with each passing day, and he was only a little worried about what might happen when the last bit of it vanished. If he was right and he was left alive as a punishment for what he'd done, Tolbert was suffering more than he ever thought he could.

"Tolbert?"

"Hm?" Tolbert's head snapped up and whipped in Ran'l's direction. Concern shone in his father's eyes, the man's face pinched in a worried expression.

"What's happened to ya, son?"

"What d'ya mean?" Tolbert's brows furrowed. He didn't think he'd changed all that much.

Ran'l shot him a look that said "you know what I mean". Tolbert gulped and averted his gaze.

"You once told me that war changes a man. Ya said some come out meek n scared, but they'd still do anythin' t' protect their family. Ya said they might lose their will t' fight, but they'd gladly do it if they had to. Well... I reckon this is my war, Poppy. This — this _thing _between us n the Hatfields is _my _war. May not be no Yankees or no Confederates, but it's war, Poppy. We got us a war here in these mountains."

Tolbert lowered his head and picked at his nails.

"Reckon I did my part in it an' it's changed me. I lost the two people I love the most. I can't say _loved — _that would mean I don't love them anymore, an' I still love 'em as much as I did when they were alive n doin' everythin' they possibly could t' make me mad. Y'know, playin' jokes or—or tryin' their darndest t' scare me, hidin' my things from me like a bunch of immature chil'ren, or when they'd jus' come up t' the still t' talk wit' me n keep me comp'ny. I miss 'em s' much, Poppy."

Ran'l stood and pulled Tolbert to his feet, pulling him into a tight embrace. Tolbert didn't hesitate to throw his arms around him and bury his face in the crook of his father's neck. His hands tightly clenched the fabric of Ran'l's shirt, his breathing uneven as he tried to force back unwanted tears.

His father didn't utter a single word. He just held onto him and let him cry, rubbing his son's back.

"I'm sorry, I'm s' sorry," he muffled into the crook of Ran'l's neck. "I'm s' sorry, Poppy!"

"Hey, _hey._" Ran'l moved back, taking hold of Tolbert's face. "It ain't your fault. None of this was your fault. Them devils across the river is responsible for this, not you."

Ran'l carded his fingers through Tolbert's hair, watching as his breathing hitched. He used his other hand to wipe the tears away, Tolbert gazing up at him.

"It really hurts, Poppy," he confessed, his voice rising in pitch.

Ran'l pulled him into a tight embrace again, letting his son sob into his shoulder. His eyes flicked up and met Jim's, who stood in the doorway. Jim gently shook his head.

"Why don't we head inside, hm? I bet supper's almost done."

—

**_February 1883_**

"Where ya goin', Tol?" Jim called out, spotting his little brother rushing toward the barn.

Tolbert stopped in his tracks and turned around, sighing as he did so.

"Up t' my still," he responded.

"Yer still? Lord, ya ain't been up there since—"

"_I know _when I was last up there," he interrupted. "Y' don't have t' tell me."

"A'ight. Be back b'fore dark."

"I will."

—

Tolbert swallowed thickly as he bent down and picked up the wooden doll, his breath leaving him.

_"Ya think Ali'd want a doll this year, Tol? I'm gettin' tired of gettin' her a dime novel every year."_

"Yeah, Bud," he whispered under his breath. "I think she'd like it."

_"Tolbert? Tolbert, what's that? Oh my God, we're gonna die, ain't we? We're gonna die, Tolbert! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die, Tol, I don't want to! I don't wanna die, Tol! Tolbert, I'm scared."_

Tolbert ran his thumb over the doll. Bud never had the chance to finish it.

_"Oh God, Tol, why d' we have t' die jus' 'cause he did?! That ain't right!"_

"Wa'n't right for you. Woulda been right for me."

He stood upright, turning and looking at the still that he hadn't used since the day before Election Day. It was still intact, which did surprise him, as he figured someone would've found it and tried to move it. But it was still right where he'd left it, untouched.

_"Tolbert, you ever think 'bout how ridiculous things are? Like — like the whole "boys can't cry in public" thing. That's so stupid, boys have a heart, too. If ya lose someone ya love, yer gonna cry. It's not like ya want to. It just happens."_

Tolbert wished he could forget about that stupid assumption. If a boy cried in public, he was considered weak. Tolbert thought it would make them look stronger; it was _hard _to be so vulnerable that you cried in front of people who've never seen you anything but happy.

And now? Well, now he hated that he could hear Bud's voice. He didn't know why he could, but he wished he didn't.

_"Tolbert... Tolbert, please don't get mad! I didn't mean no harm, I swear I didn't! Tolbert, _please, _don't get mad! I swear I won't ever do nothin' like that 'gain!"_

He could remember how frightened Bud had been after he found him at home, sleeping, when he'd gone and told Roseanna what they'd been up to. That had resulted in the Hatfields showing up and threatening to kill them all.

_"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't think she'd go t' them!"_

"Stop it, stop it, _stop it!_" Tolbert covered his ears in hopes of blocking out the voice.

_"God, you're so old. How're you still walkin'?"_

"Stop! Oh my God, stop!"

Tolbert stumbled back and fell to the ground, curling up into a ball.

_"Hey! Quit hittin' me, Tolbert! Alright, alright, I'll apologize! I'm sorry you're an old man."_

He could remember Bud laughing and running the other way when he'd said that, and he remembered that he hadn't paid attention to where he was going and had run straight into the side of the barn.

_"Sometimes you're an idiot, Bud."_

_"No more than you."_

_"Why you little—"_

Bud's boisterous laughter rang in his ears. Why wouldn't it stop? Tolbert just wanted it to _stop._

_"Ya know, you've always been my fav'rite. Don't really have a reason for it other than I like yer comp'ny best, but ya've always been my fav'rite."_

_"You've always been my fav'rite too, Buddy. Don't ya tell anyone I told ya that or I'll drown you in the river."_

_"Whatever you say, Tol."_

Tolbert whined and pulled at his hair. It wasn't stopping, why wasn't it stopping? He didn't like whatever was happening. He'd never had it happen before and he would've preferred that it never happened at all.

_"Tol? You a'ight? I mean... God, Tol, are ya drunk?"_

_"No, 'm not drunk."_

_"Yes, ya are. Yer drunk. C'mon, let's getcha inside n int' bed 'fore ya pass out on me."_

He never should have gone to his still. He stood up and unhitched his horse, mounting and heading back toward Jim's place.

—

"Jim, I swear, I'm goin' crazy!"

Jim looked up at him, blinking in shock.

"What?"

"Oh God, Jim, I'm hearin' their voices! Make it stop!"

"Tolbert? _Tolbert!_" Jim shouted as he collapsed. "Oh God, Tolbert!"

He ran over to him and crouched down, wrestling him into his arms and taking him upstairs to his room. He laid him on the bed before pressing the back of his hand to Tolbert's forehead, hissing as he drew his hand back.

"Dang it, Tolbert," he grumbled through clenched teeth. "I wish you'd tell me when ya feel that way, ya idiot."

He took Tolbert's boots off of him, tossing them toward the corner before pulling him to a sitting position and wrestling the coat off of him.

Tolbert was delirious. He'd gone out with a fever and he was delirious. Jim wasn't sure what he should do, so he figured he could ride out to their parents' home while Tolbert slept.

—

Jim had been advised to fetch Doc Rutherford, and so he had. Doc Rutherford had said it was just a common fever that he couldn't do anything about. Jim had thanked him and the man went on his way.

That had been three days ago.

Jim still went about his day, taking care of everything that needed tending to, and he was taking care of Tolbert simultaneously. It wasn't hard to do; Tolbert slept most of the time, allowing him to get the work done.

While Jim hated that Tolbert was sick, he was at least grateful that his baby brother didn't make it hard for him to get the daily chores done. He only wished that Tolbert's fever would (at the very least) lower and that he would eat.

—

_"Tolbert."_

Tolbert grunted and stirred, moving away from the hand that brushed against his face.

_"Tol? Hey, wake up! Tolbert, I need t' talk t' you."_

What was Bud doing there? Tolbert wasn't entirely sure of anything at the moment — he hadn't been the last few days — but he was almost certain he'd never seen his little brother look so... _angelic._

There was a soft yellow glow around him, his form appearing solid but Tolbert had never seen anyone glow like that before. He wondered then if he was seeing what was referred to as a haint — a spirit of someone or something that was dead.

"Bud?" he mumbled.

_"Yeah, Tolbert. It's me."_

"Ya sure?"

_"I think I know who I am, Tol."_

"Can't be you. Ya left me."

_"I did not! Move over, Tol."_

Tolbert wasn't sure why, but he obeyed. He knew Bud wasn't real; why was he listening to him? Why was he _talking _to him when he knew that he wasn't real?

"I'm real sorry. I didn't mean t' get ya killed, Bud."

_"Ya didn't get me killed._" Bud rolled his eyes. _"The Hatfields killed me, not you."_

Ah, Bud was still as sassy as ever. Tears welled in Tolbert's eyes as a weak smile appeared on his face. Bud was still the same, even if he wasn't real, he was still the same Bud he knew and loved.

"I love ya."

_"I love ya too. Do me a favor n get better, hm? Believe me, Tolbert, Jim really needs you. He needs ya t' get better. Me n Pharmer love ya."_

"No one needs me," Tolbert chuckled bitterly. "I'm not good for nothin' anymore. After you n Pharmer left, I've b'come the kinda person I used t' hate. The ones who didn't do anythin' but mope an' cry all the time."

_"You're grieving. It's okay to grieve. Sometimes, it takes a long while before things start t' get better. Ya remember tellin' me that?"_

"Yeah," Tolbert forced out. "I r'member. Been hearin' your voice a lot here lately. I swear, Bud, 'm goin' insane."

_"Well, Tolbert, honey, ya've been insane for years."_

"You know what I mean."

Bud sighed heavily.

_"C'mere."_

Tolbert did as he was told, scooting closer to him. Bud wrapped his arms around Tolbert, letting his older brother put his head against his shoulder.

"If you can do this... why haven't ya been here b'fore?"

_"What're you talkin' about? I'm always here with ya. Someone's gotta make sure ya ain't bein' a reckless idiot."_

Tolbert coughed a laugh.

"A'ight, that's fair."

It was nice to believe that Bud was really there. It was nice to be able to give himself some form of relief for a little while, talking and laughing with what was supposed to be his baby brother.

_"You gonna fight for me?"_

"Reckon so. _God, _I miss you!"

_"I know. I miss you too. I don't like not bein' able t' talk t' ya, Tol."_

"I miss ya so much," Tolbert sobbed, wrapping his arms around him. "Don't leave yet. _Please, _just — just stay here a while."

_"I'm not gonna leave until I know you're okay."_

"I'll never be okay, Bud. I stopped bein' okay on August ninth. You was innocent, ya didn't d'serve t' die. Pharmer didn't either. _My God, _y'all are both s' young... I'm so sorry I got yer lives taken from ya."

_"It's okay, Tolbert. Even if ya hadn't started that darn fight, someone woulda ended up gettin' hurt. It's okay."_

Tolbert shook his head.

"No," he denied, "no one woulda been killed if I hadn't started that fight."

_"Maybe so, but someone still woulda been hurt," _Bud countered. _"Don't waste yer breath arguin' with me."_

Tolbert hummed and closed his eyes as Bud pulled his fingers through his hair. It was _nice, _despite knowing he was hallucinating. Did people feel things when they hallucinated? Tolbert could _feel _Bud's fingertips brushing against his scalp.

_"Get some rest, Tolbert. Don't think I don't know ya haven't slept much since me n Pharmer died."_

"Sometimes I think ya know too much," Tolbert scoffed.

_"Maybe, but that don't give ya an excuse t' stop sleeping. Ya didn't sleep at all for — was it a week? — before ya collapsed in the kitchen?"_

"Six days. It had only been six days."

_"And your body clearly can't handle ev'rythin' you do without sleepin' for six days. Ya do a lot of work around here, Tol. Ya need rest."_

"Hard t' do that when ya can't sleep."

_"I know. R'member how ya used t' get mad at me when I didn't sleep?"_

"Yeah. I understand now, I really do. I'm sorry I lost my temper all those times. 'S miserable when ya can't sleep."

_"Yeah, it is, but then it's all worth it when ya finally do sleep. Usually sleep real good. Now shut up n get some rest."_

"I'm still older than you. Ya don't tell me what t' do."

Bud laughed at him.

_"Ya don't have t' rub in the fact you're an old man, Tolbert. I know how old ya are."_

"Shut up, Bud," he grumbled, nuzzling his baby brother's shoulder.

_"Alright, I will. Get some sleep."_

—

**_March 1883_**

Tolbert glanced at Jim as he dismounted, watching his older brother nod to him. Tolbert hitched his horse and started to walk away when Jim caught his arm.

"Please don't make me come out there t' fetch ya this time. Not too long, okay?" Jim pleaded.

"Okay," Tolbert nodded.

He headed out to the cemetery. He knew the path to it like the back of his hand, as he had often gone up there when Pharmer and Bud were alive to clear away the weeds and overgrowth. The cemetery wasn't far from where the McCoys lived and Tolbert always enjoyed the walk to it.

Reaching the cemetery, he bent down in front of Pharmer's grave. He'd been hearing his voice a lot lately and he was starting to wonder if perhaps he'd be seeing Pharmer the way he'd seen Bud.

"Hey, Pharmer," he murmured. "I don't know if you can really hear me or if I'm just goin' insane, but I miss ya. I miss ya a lot. Ain't been able t' come out here lately 'cause Jim wouldn't let me outta the house, but I'm here now. I'm sorry, I really am. You was jus' _nineteen. _You shouldn't-a died. I'm so sorry. I love you."

He placed his fingers against his lips before reaching out and allowing his fingertips to brush against the stone. He let them linger for a few seconds before standing and moving toward Bud's grave.

"Hey, Buddy. I don't know if you was real or not when I saw ya, but thank you. Thank ya so much, baby. Ya helped me get better. I started fightin' 'cause of you, an' I've been tryin' t' sleep better, too. I'm so sorry, baby. Ya should be here scoldin' me when I do somethin' stupid, not layin' six feet under the ground. I'm sorry. I love ya."

—

Tolbert slipped into the McCoy cabin, shivering as a chill ran down his spine.

"I don't think that's the case, Jim. I think he's doin' it for attention," Perry stated as he leaned back in his chair, his back facing Tolbert.

"Tolbert wouldn't do somethin' like this for attention. If he wanted attention, he'd go start another fight," Jim argued, obviously not noticing that Tolbert had returned.

"I have t' say I agree with Jim, Perry. Tolbert's grieving. He wouldn't do this for attention," his father piped up from where he sat, not noticing his second-eldest son.

"He's been grieving since last August. Don't you two think he's draggin' it out as long as he possibly can?"

"No," Jim responded without hesitation. "Ya don't see what I see, Perry. Don't go twistin' this int' somethin' it's not. I've watched him cry himself t' sleep b'fore, so don't ya go there. He's blamin' himself for the deaths of Pharmer n Bud. Ya add that with grief an' it's a hundred times worse for him than it is on the rest of us. We hide it better than he does."

"Anyone can cry, Jim," Perry remarked dryly.

"Not like this, Perry. You don't live with him, ya don't hear what all he says. I worry about him. I'm always scared he's gonna do somethin' n I ain't gonna be able t' stop him. He thinks he should be dead. He swore t' me that he was goin' crazy, said he was hearin' voices. Ya ain't seen what I've seen, ya ain't heard what I've heard, s' don't even start tryin' ta make it out like Bert's doin' this for attention."

Tolbert bit down on his lip and stared down at the floor. Was that what everyone thought? That he was doing it for attention?

"It's changed him, I know it has. Ya don't know just how much my little brother has changed since our baby brothers died. Tolbert don't get mad anymore. He don't argue, he don't disagree, he goes along with anythin' and ev'rythin'. So don't you _tell me _he's doin' it for _attention. _It's pathetic t' think Tolbert McCoy would ever do somethin' for attention. That's not the way Tolbert is!"

Jim lifted his gaze when he caught sight of something moving. Seeing Tolbert, he quietly muttered, "Oh God."

Jim stood and walked over to him. Tolbert lifted his head, seeing him reach out and jerked his head out of his reach. Jim sighed and instead placed his hand on Tolbert's shoulder. He knew just by looking at Tolbert that he'd heard more than he'd admit to hearing. But he asked anyway and earned a simple answer of "I heard enough" before Tolbert clammed up again.

"Bert."

"Don't," he whispered softly, his voice taking on a pleading tone. "It's alright."

"It's _not _alright. It's not alright t' sit 'round an' let people insinuate that yer doin' it for attention, Tolbert."

"They're gonna think what they think. I can't change it."

"Ya go out there already?"

"Yeah."

"Ya didn't stay long."

"Didn't have too much t' say. I said what I wanted to n came back."

"Alright, honey, I believe ya. Long as ya said what ya wanted to."

"I did," he forced a smile.

Jim patted his shoulder, turning back toward their father and Perry.

"Ya think Tol would do somethin' like this for attention? Yer insane."

"I can take up for myself," Tolbert grumbled.

"But you won't 'cause you've got it in your head that you deserve it. Ya think ya deserve every bad thing that's said about ya. Ya think that jus' 'cause they got killed as revenge for Ellison's death that ya deserve ev'ry bad thing that's said, that ya d'serve t' be six feet under the dagon ground out there in that dang cemetery."

"Jim—"

"Look me in the eye an' tell me I'm wrong."

Tolbert lowered his gaze slightly.

"You're wrong."

"That's my chest. Look me in the eye and say it."

He lifted his gaze.

"You're — you're—I can't!"

"I know ya can't. Ya can't look me in the eye n lie t' me."

"Yes, I can!"

"A'ight then. Look me in the eye n tell me it wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't my fault."

"That's my shoulder. My eyes are up here."

Tolbert huffed and folded his arms tightly over his chest, leaning against the wall behind him.

"How d'ya know it wasn't my fault? Ya wasn't there when it happened, Jim. Ya didn't run with them, ya didn't see how scared they was when Devil Anse n his men captured us, ya wasn't locked in that dang schoolhouse with them, an' ya didn't see 'em the day they tried t' kill all three of us. Ya don't know if it was my fault 'cause _you weren't there!_"

"No, I wasn't there," Jim agreed with him. "_But, _I've had a lot of people tell me what happened, including you."

Tolbert laughed.

"Oh _God, _ya don't see what I see _ev'ry time _I close my eyes. Ya don't hear what I hear. There's a lot of times I wake up n want t' scream. Heck, I've woke myself up screamin' before. Ya don't know what I feel. Ya don't know how _horrible _it is t' know that you caused the deaths of your two baby brothers. Don't expect ya to. Ya've never done it."

"Tolbert, you didn't—"

"Yes, I did. I wish I could forget that I did."

Jim exhaled deeply.

"Why don't ya come sit down? Ya look a little pale."

Tolbert agreed to it, following him to the table and sitting down beside him. When he was at Ran'l and Sally's, he never sat in the place that he used to, off to Ran'l's right. Bud always sat beside him, so he avoided it at all costs.

"Hey, Tolbert!" Calvin greeted as he came downstairs.

"Hey, Cal," Tolbert forced a smile.

"You okay?" Calvin's brows furrowed when he saw the expression on Tolbert's face.

"I'm fine."

—

Tolbert couldn't sleep. With a frustrated grunt, he got up and went downstairs to Jim's room, pushing the door open.

"Can't sleep?" Jim guessed as Tolbert shuffled over to the bed.

"No, I can't sleep," he grumbled irritably, laying down next to Jim. "I'm tryin' t' stop sneakin' off to the cemetery, but it's real hard when that seems t' be the only place I can get any sleep."

"Well, maybe we'll build a cabin right next to it so you can sleep," Jim jested, earning a look from Tolbert.

"That ain't funny."

"Ya know I'd do it if it would help. It'd be a lot easier t' take care of it that way, too. Ya'd know when the overgrowth n weeds needed cleared — ya wouldn't have t' guess at it."

"I won't be guessin' this year. I go up there enough t' know. I've got a reason t' go now."

"I know ya do. We all do," Jim muttered. "I ain't been up there in a while. I don't like lookin' at those stones with their names carved in 'em."

"I don't either. I hate seein' their names on those stupid stones. Hate seein' the year they was born n the year they died. They wa'n't very old, Jim. I can't think of anythin' worse than this right now."

"What?" Jim asked, turning his head toward Tolbert.

"Them dyin' while I somehow survive that. They call it justice but they killed the wrong one for it t' be justice. They killed an innocent boy, not the one who started it all. If they wanted justice, it shoulda jus' been the ones that killed him."

"An' if ya coulda got by with sayin' Pharmer had no part in it, ya would've. Ya woulda let them kill you for somethin' that both of ya did."

"Yeah," Tolbert breathed, nodding ever so slightly. "I would've. He was nineteen, he had a whole life t' live. I've lived long enough."

"No, you haven't. Ya haven't found ya a purdy girl t' git married to yet."

"Ain't no girl that wants me," Tolbert chuckled bitterly. "I'm Crazy McCoy, r'member? No girl'd be crazy 'nough t' marry me, Jim."

"You're not crazy," Jim rolled his eyes. "An' t' be perfectly frank with ya, I don't see why a girl wouldn't want t' marry ya. Yer a hard worker, ya got a good heart n a good soul. Ya wouldn't let no harm come to her. Ya've gotten a lot better at controllin' that temper of yours, too."

"Don't think I have one anymore."

"Oh no, you got one. Yer jus' scared t' lose it."

"I ain't scared t' lose it," Tolbert snapped harshly. "I just don't want to."

Jim didn't necessarily believe that, but he didn't say anything else on the matter.

"Why don't ya try t' sleep, hm? It'll do ya some good."

"You've been sayin' that since August an' I've yet t' see any good come from me sleepin'."

"Just take my word on this one, Tol," Jim chuckled. "I love ya."

"I love ya too."

—

**_May 1883_**

"Have you seen Tolbert McCoy lately?"

Tolbert rolled his eyes at the gossip women of their church, knowing they didn't have the slightest idea he was standing within earshot.

"Yes, I have. You know he still looks as pitiful as he did the day of that funeral? I think he's doin' it for attention."

"I don't think he'd use his brothers' deaths as a way t' get attention," another remarked. "Tolbert might be shameless, but he ain't _that _shameless."

"And you know he never gets angry anymore? He's so meek... he's completely diff'rent from what he used t' be."

"_Meek,_" one of them scoffed. "Tolbert isn't capable of being meek."

Tolbert blanched. Was he really so bad? He didn't think he was _that _terrible.

"I don't know what happened with that one, but I think Sally n Ran'l should disown him. He caused his younger brothers t' get killed! I told that Sally not t' let him get close t' those two, but she didn't listen ta me! She let 'em get close to him and look what happened."

Tolbert's throat constricted as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. His breathing picked up as he fought to keep his composure. He couldn't break down in the churchyard. It would make the family look bad.

"I don't think she woulda been able t' stop 'em."

"She could've if she wanted to. Tolbert listens t' Sally."

He made a small noise in the back of his throat, one hand flying up and wiping at his eyes.

"Bert? Are ya okay?" Jim places a hand on his shoulder, startling Tolbert and causing him to jump.

"Fine," he choked out, biting down on his lip.

"An' t' think he moved in with Jim! Don't he think it's wrong ta be a burden on his older brother?"

Jim's blood boiled. So they were talking about Tolbert again. He had no doubt they'd brought Pharmer and Bud into it. Tolbert made a small noise, his face pinched in a distressed expression.

"Go wait for me. I'll be there in a minute."

"_Jim._"

"_Bert,_" Jim shot his younger brother a stern look.

Tolbert huffed and headed toward the wagon. He didn't know why Jim wanted to say something to them when they were right. He hadn't even thought about the fact that he'd become a burden on Jim. And now that he had, he realized how _wrong _it had been for him to move in with him. What was wrong with him?

—

Tolbert didn't say a word on the ride home. Jim glanced at him and knew that it would be best to leave him alone, so he didn't try to strike up a conversation with him.

It was later that evening, after Tolbert had done all of his chores, that the two sat on the porch together. Jim sat in a rocking chair while Tolbert sat with his back against a post, his eyes watching the sunset.

"What's so interestin' out there, Tol?"

"Bud loved the sunset," Tolbert answered, his voice hoarse. "We'd be up at my still n he'd hit me, tellin' me the sun was setting an' that it looked real purdy t'night. I used t' roll my eyes at him n tell him he said the same thing ev'ry night. Pharmer liked sunrise best. We could be out b'fore dawn t' get an early start n he'd stop when the sun rose t' watch it."

"That all that's interestin' t' ya?" Jim asked softly.

"Out there? Yeah. Makes me think of them."

"I reckon I side with Bud on this one. I like the sunset better."

"Me too," a wistful smile appeared on Tolbert's face. "Sunrise can be right purdy too, but I like sunset better."

Silence befell them again as Tolbert looked away from the sunset, his eyes focusing straight ahead. He didn't say anything at first — he let the silence linger and was hesitant to break it.

"D'you think I'm a burden?" he blurted.

"Pardon?" Jim blinked, wanting to make sure he'd heard him right.

"D'you think I'm a burden?" Tolbert repeated.

"No, I don't think you're a burden! Why on earth would I think that?"

"I dunno. Jus' figured ya might... I moved in wit' ya n I really ain't done nothin' t' help out. I ain't the easiest person t' live with either."

"Tolbert, ya can't believe what them women say. Ya ain't a burden. I happen t' like your company," Jim informed him. "Don't think that anythin' they said is true. I highly doubt it is."

"They was right 'bout one thing."

"What's that?"

"I'm the reason they got killed."

Jim sighed heavily.

"Y—y'know, I never knew Mrs. White told Mama t' keep 'em 'way from me. I never knew I was incapable of bein' meek either. I really didn't think I was all that bad... I mean, I know I'm a terrible person, I have been for a real long time, but—but I didn't think I was _that _terrible, ya know? She thinks Mama n Poppy should disown me."

"What?" Jim gaped.

"Yeah. Said she don't know what happened with me n that Mama n Poppy should disown me 'cause I got 'em killed. I can't say she's wrong, 'cause she's not. I wouldn't blame 'em if they disowned me, Jim. I wouldn't want the son that got the two youngest ones killed either."

"My God," Jim muttered under his breath.

"Reckon I shoulda expected them to blame me. They've never liked me much."

"'Cause all they do is judge people n gossip," Jim grumbled.

Tolbert couldn't help but laugh.

"Y' not like 'em, Jim?"

"Not really, no. I've listened t' them talk 'bout ya for years, Tolbert. I fin'lly said somethin' t'day n it felt pretty dang good, I ain't gonna lie t' ya. I've heard 'em talk 'bout Bud after he gave 'em what-for for what they said 'bout Rose, heard 'em bad-mouth you fer years. They bad-mouthed Pharmer, too. They don't have a good thing t' say 'bout anybody."

"That I believe."

"But ya won't believe me when I tell ya this wasn't your fault?"

"Nope. Ya can't change my mind on that one, Jim."

"_Anyways, _ya ain't no burden. Mama n Poppy still want ya, too. I don't mind ya livin' with me, baby. Tell ya the truth, I think it's helped me with all this. I've got you an' I jus'... I don't think it would be the same if ya moved out, Tolbert. Reckon I've got t' where I depend on ya."

"That's a terr'ble thing, Jim. Ya don't wanna depend on me. Pharmer n Bud did... look at what happened t' them."

"Ya ain't at fault for that," Jim told him. "We've got arrest warrants, but they won't cross the river. We can't do nothin' yet."

"Bounty hunters. We can get bounty hunters."

"Oh, yer not gonna go searchin' for 'em?"

"I agreed t' testify. I agreed t' testify n tell who was there, who shot at us n who was there when they captured us. That's all I'm willin' t' do, Jim. I ain't fightin' no more, ain't gonna get involved in anythin' that could end in violence. Not unless they get sent t' the gallows for what they did t' them."

"That's not the Tolbert I know," Jim remarked, raising his brows.

"The Tolbert you know's been dead for eight months and twenty-six days. Pharmer's birthday's this week, ya know that? He woulda been twenty."

"Eight months an' twenty-six days?" Jim's brows pinched together.

"Mhm," Tolbert hummed, pulling his knees up to his chest. "They died August ninth, today is May sixth. Eight months and twenty-six days ago was the last time I saw them alive."

"You've counted the days?" Jim questioned, his voice slightly rising in pitch.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"That was the day a punishment was given t' me. Life became a punishment."

"Tolbert—"

"It's not like I'll do anythin' t' end my own life. I've thought about it before, though. Thought about doin' what they didn't t' me. It'd still be justice in some way, wouldn't it? The guilty one would be dead with the innocent. But I'm too cowardly t' even do that."

"Tolbert, oh my God," Jim mumbled, moving from his chair and bending down on one knee in front of him. "_Tolbert._"

"I saw him not too long ago," Tolbert admitted, his voice a borderline whisper.

"Saw who?" Jim looked genuinely confused.

"Bud. He was in my room; he woke me up. He _touched me. _I felt it, I really did. I talked to him, Jim. I talked to him and touched him, a-an' I held onto him. I begged him not t' go n he said he wouldn't 'til he knew I was alright. I fell asleep n when I woke up, he was gone. But he was _there, _Jim, I swear he was! I wanna talk t' him again."

"Tolbert... Tolbert, when was that?"

Tolbert was starting to scare his older brother. Maybe it had all been an extremely realistic dream and Tolbert just thought it was real. Maybe it was something that wasn't real at all and it was just Tolbert's mind playing a cruel trick on him.

"Back in February, after I started hearin' their voices."

"When ya was sick?"

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded. "Yeah, then."

"Tolbert, honey, you were delirious then—"

"_I saw him! _I talked t' him an' I touched him, Jim! I did, I really did, I swear! Don't ya b'lieve me?" Tolbert asked meekly.

"I want t' believe you, but when ya tell me that ya saw Bud, ya talked t' him, an' ya _touched _him, I reckon I have my doubts. There's no possible way you _actually _touched him, saw him, or talked t' him. It was either a realistic dream or you were jus' delirious."

"No, I saw him," Tolbert swore. "I swear to ya, Jim, I really saw him! I wasn't delirious, I wasn't!"

"Alright, baby. Ya wasn't delirious. Just... let's keep this b'tween us, a'ight? Jus' the two of us will know 'bout this."

"Okay," he murmured. "Jus' the two of us."

—

Tolbert swallowed thickly as he knelt in front of Pharmer's grave, the words caught in his throat. He'd tried to speak three times already, but the words didn't want to come out.

"Happy birthday," he forced out. "I'm sorry ya couldn't be here for it. I'm sorry I let ya get involved in that fight. My God, Pharmer, I'm so sorry."

Tolbert hung his head as a sob tore from his throat.

"I'm so sorry, Pharmer. I'm — I'm sorry I let ya get s' close t' me. If ya hadn't been close t' me, ya wouldn't-a been involved an' ya'd still be alive. I'm sorry, I truly am. I miss ya. I miss ya tryin' t' scare me an' gettin' frustrated 'cause ya never could. I miss yer terr'ble jokes, Pharmer. I'm so sorry. I love you."

—

**_August 1883_**

It wasn't shocking when Tolbert disappeared on the evening of August seventh.

Jim had gone out the first thing the next morning, finding Tolbert on Pharmer's grave. He'd took him home and put him to bed, his younger brother not seeming to even notice that Jim had moved him.

On August eighth, he disappeared again.

Jim groaned and went back to the cemetery, finding him on Bud's grave this time. And for the second day in a row, Jim carried Tolbert home while he slept.

On August ninth, he did it again.

So Jim begrudgingly made his way back to the cemetery, only to have his heart stop beating once he got there.

_Tolbert wasn't there._

Jim ran straight for the McCoy cabin, waking his parents. He didn't care, though. Tolbert was missing and he hadn't the slightest idea of where he had gone.

"What're you doin'?" Ran'l inquired, his eyes filling with concern as he scanned his eldest son's frame.

"Tolbert's gone. I don't know where he went, Poppy! He ain't at the cemetery an' he ain't at home. I don't know where he is!" Jim explained briefly and frantically.

"Oh dear God," Ran'l mumbled under his breath. Turning to rush and get dressed, he barked, "Sally, wake Calvin! Tell 'im we gotta find Tolbert. Jim, go get the horses."

Jim nodded and rushed to the barn, saddling and bridling three horses. Since his horse was at his home, he ended up saddling Bud's, which did make his heart sink a little. Jim didn't think about it long, though. He had to find Tolbert.

—

Ran'l had gone to the pawpaw patch while the boys split in two different directions. Jim headed toward their Uncle Harmon's old place (well, where it used to be) and Calvin headed for Aunt Betty's to see if he'd gone there.

Reaching the pawpaw patch, Ran'l guided his horse down the hillside and stopped when he saw his son sleeping on the ground in front of a tree. He dismounted and tethered the horse to a limb, making his way over to him.

He bent down, gently shaking Tolbert's shoulder. Tolbert jerked awake, his hand gripping his father's wrist as his eyes widened in panic. It took him a few seconds to realize who was standing there, and once he had, he sighed in relief and loosened his grip.

"Nonono, son, c'mon, we gotta getcha home," Ran'l told him, trying to keep him from going back to sleep.

"Don't wanna go nowheres. Wanna stay here," Tolbert mumbled groggily, his tired blue eyes meeting his father's. "I 'ave t' stay 'ere."

"No, ya don't," Ran'l argued softly. "C'mon, up ya get. Ya've scared Jim outta his wits, Bert."

"Jim? Where's Jim?" Tolbert seemed to fully wake up at the mention of Jim.

"He's out lookin' for you. C'mon, let's go home so he'll know you're alright."

Tolbert agreed to it and slowly climbed to his feet, staggering a little once he stood upright. He brushed himself off and followed his father.

—

"_TOLBERT!_"

Tolbert grunted as Jim hugged him tightly.

"My _God, _don't do that t' me!"

"I'm sorry," Tolbert whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Didn't mean t' scare ya."

"It's alright, it's alright, don't cry. My God, I didn't mean t' make ya cry. Where the heck were you?"

"The pawpaw patch."

"The pawpaw — _oh. _Oh, baby," Jim breathed, a sympathetic expression crossing his face.

Tolbert nuzzled against Jim's shoulder. He may have been twenty-nine, but he didn't care to admit that he relished in his older brother's comfort. It was the only time he ever felt peaceful; the only time he didn't feel like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Without a second thought, Jim kissed Tolbert's temple.

"Ya gave me a good scare, Bert," he chuckled breathlessly.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. You're a'ight, that's what matters. At least now I'll know where t' look if you're not at the cemetery."

Tolbert gave a weak, forced laugh. Jim rubbed his back, exhaling deeply through his nostrils. It would be a long while before Tolbert got better.

—

**_December 1887_**

"I'm not participatin' in any of them raids!" Tolbert raised his voice, his anger flaring.

"Tolbert, they need as many men as they can get," Ran'l tried to reason with him.

"_No. _I did my part in this dang feud, ya can do the rest without me."

"Did your part? That's only begun, Tolbert," Perry told him.

"I'm done with it!" Tolbert exclaimed. "I'm not doin' it, ya can't _make me _do it!"

"No one's makin' ya do anythin'," Jim spoke up. Directing his attention to the two men, he said, "I told y'all he wouldn't do it. Leave him be. Tol's been through enough in this stupid feud."

Tolbert curled into a ball in front of the fireplace, his forehead resting against his knees.

_"Know somethin', Tolbert?"_

_"What, Buddy?"_

_"I really don't get the point of New Years. Why d' we stay up all night?"_

_"T' bring the new one in. It's jus' a tradition."_

_"Well, it's a dumb one. I like sleepin'."_

_"It's one night outta the year, Bud. You'll survive with a little less sleep."_

Tolbert forced himself to take deep breaths, trying to keep from showing that he was hearing voices again.

_"Think I'm old 'nough t' drink 'shine now, Tol?"_

_"Reckon so. But ya seem a little drunk already, so I don't think what I say matters much, Pharmer."_

_"Well, I asked Jim earlier."_

_"Then why are you askin' me?"_

_"'Cause I wanted t' know what ya thought."_

_"Mm... Well, don't be givin' Bud any ideas. He ain't drinkin' for a long while."_

Jim knew something was off with Tolbert. He stoked the fire before nudging him, causing Tolbert to lift his head.

"What?" he asked.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," he forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Jus' thinkin'."

Jim hummed and sat down beside him.

"You don't have t' do anything ya don't want to. They jus' want ya 'cause yer a lot stronger than ya look."

"I'm not gettin' involved in anythin' that can end with death. I've caused enough of that t' last me a lifetime."

"An' ya don't have to. Forget about this dumb feud. It's New Year's Eve, drink some 'shine n be happy."

"Jim, I ain't been happy in five years," Tolbert scoffed. "You want the precise—"

"No, I'm good on that. I'll go getcha some 'shine. Loosen up a little."

"Can't do that, Jim. This is jus' the way I am now."

Jim clapped a hand on Tolbert's shoulder and rubbed it before getting up. He returned a moment later with two jars, both filled to the brim with moonshine.

Tolbert couldn't remember the last time he drank. Maybe it was last New Year's Eve, he wasn't entirely sure. He didn't drink much anymore.

"It's a new year. Maybe this darn feud will fin'lly come to an end."

"I can drink t' that," Tolbert chuckled, a small smile gracing his face.

"So can I. I don't drink much, but I'll drink t' that."

—

**_January 1888_**

Tolbert and Jim ended up staying in the room Tolbert shared with Bud. Out of pure instinct, Tolbert had gone to the side of the bed he always slept on and had instantly curled up under the blanket and gone to sleep.

It was still dark outside when Tolbert's shoulder was slapped roughly. He made a noise in the back of his throat and slowly peeled his eyes open, finding his father.

"Git up! Hatfields are prowlin'," he hissed.

"Huh?" Tolbert mumbled, still not fully awake.

"Hatfields are prowlin' outside. Git up n git dressed."

"Oh."

"Wake yer brother," Ran'l instructed as he left the room.

Tolbert smacked Jim's arm before throwing the covers off of himself, getting up.

"Get up! Hatfields are outside."

Jim groaned and begrudgingly got up. They quickly dressed and made their way downstairs, finding the girls and their mother near the windows.

"Get away from those windows!" Tolbert hissed. "Y'all crazy or somethin'?! Don't let them see you!"

"What're we gonna do?" Jim mumbled.

"Well, reckon we can try n get Mama n the rest out the back—"

"_Randall!_"

"Don't think that's our main concern now."

Tolbert sighed heavily. He didn't want to see any more death. He'd seen two people die and that was enough for him.

"Boys, make sure it's safe out back," Sally ordered.

Tolbert quirked a brow, but he did as he was told.

_"Think the Hatfields will ever try t' attack us here?"_

_"They're dumber than a sack full of rocks if they do."_

Jim pulled the back door open while Tolbert stepped outside. His eyes began to scan the wooded area, checking the area to his right first.

There was a gunshot.

Tolbert yelled and was pulled back inside, but not before catching sight of the blonde hair that belonged to Cotton Top.

"Oh dear Lord," Sally mumbled.

"Mm... got pretty good aim," Tolbert remarked, his hand covering the wound.

"The heck is wrong with you?! You just got _shot!_" Calvin exclaimed.

"I've been shot before, Calvin," he reminded him dryly. "It hurts, but I ain't forgot what it feels like. Once ain't nearly as bad as twice."

"Enough of that. Alifair, get somethin' t' put pressure on it," Sally instructed, earning a nod from her daughter.

"_RANDALL!_"

"He's not here! It's jus' me, my brothers, an' women and children!" Calvin shouted, being sure to keep close to the window but out of sight.

Jim slapped a hand over Tolbert's mouth when Alifair applied pressure on his wound. Tolbert's face pinched in a pained expression, watching Jim's hand cover Alifair's. Alifair moved hers and hurried back to the children, allowing him to apply the pressure to Tolbert's wound.

"Well, it's a non-fatal wound if we get it removed. Can't do that 'til those morons leave, though. Hit ya right in the middle... right 'bove yer stomach. I don't think there's anythin' there that can make it fatal, is there?"

"How would I know that, Jim? I ain't no doctor," Tolbert quipped, shooting his brother an exasperated look.

Alifair and Trinnie screamed as something flew through the window. Flames spread across the floor, Tolbert's eyes widening.

_"We're gonna die, ain't we?"_

_"Nonono, we're gonna be—"_

_"Don't lie t' me! We're gonna die."_

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," he mumbled over and over, his hand flying up and pulling at his hair. _What could he do? _He didn't have a gun — they'd left them at home because it was just _one night._

"Boys, get out the back! Go!"

Tolbert looked at Jim, who looked conflicted.

"Take the girls with ya! _Go!_"

Tolbert didn't waste time in snatching Fanny off of the floor, placing her on his hip.

"Trinnie, baby, ya gotta run. Ya gotta run fast. Same for you, Alifair. Tolbert, open the door!"

Tolbert wrenched the door open, Jim and Trinnie rushing out. Tolbert followed behind them, placing a hand on Trinnie's back to try to help her. There was a scream behind them.

"What was—"

"Don't look!"

They found their father on his knees, as he'd made his escape shortly before the house was set ablaze, and huffed in relief. The two boys sat Addie and Fanny down, Tolbert sitting down with a pained grunt.

"What's happened?"

"House is on fire. I don't — where's Ali?! Ali was right behind me, where is—"

"Tolbert, Tolbert breathe! Breathe, there ya go."

Another shot.

"My God, they can't kill them! They can't—"

"You have nothin' t' protect yourself with. You're gonna stay right where ya are, Tolbert. Now... hold still."

Tolbert bit down on his lip as Jim applied pressure to the wound again, trying not to make a sound.

_"Tolbert."_

Oh God, not now. He couldn't stand to see him right now.

_"Tolbert? Tolbert, hey!"_

Tolbert whined and willed the voice to go away. He didn't want to see Bud right now.

_"Tolbert!"_

_—_

**_August 1882_**

Tolbert jerked awake with a sharp gasp, his head falling back against the wall, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to calm himself down. _What just happened?_

"Mm... Tolbert?"

He looked down, finding Bud curled against his side.

_It was a dream._

All of it was a sick, twisted dream that Tolbert had somehow managed to conjure up. Tolbert had never felt so much relief when he realized his baby brothers were still alive.

"What, baby?" Tolbert rasped.

"Y' okay?" Bud peered up at him innocently.

"Yeah, baby. I'm okay."

"Mkay." A beat of silence. "Tol?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."


	15. Please Help Me (Modern AU)

**_September 2016_**

Bud swallowed thickly as he shut off the engine to his four-wheeler, trying to calm his racing heart before removing the key and getting off of it, taking his helmet off. He set it on the seat and made his way up to the front door, knocking on it.

Sarah opened the door, looking at him curiously.

"Is Ellison home?" Bud asked with a trembling voice.

"He's out back at the shed," she responded, eyeing him warily.

"Thanks," he mumbled, turning and heading down the steps before hurrying toward the shed.

Bud stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, trying to figure out a way to ask Ellison what he needed to ask him. He didn't know what he could possibly do and... Ellison was really his only hope at this point.

Rounding the corner, he found Ellison splitting wood. _God, _he didn't want to bother him. He didn't want to bother Ellison any more than he already did, but given what had happened, he really didn't have a choice.

"Ellison?"

Ellison looked up at him, a smile appearing on his face.

"Hey, Bud! What brings ya here?" Ellison tossed the two logs he'd split on the pile.

"I got disowned."

Ellison turned back toward him, his eyes wide.

"What?"

"I got disowned," he repeated, folding his arms tightly over his chest. "They don't want me no more."

"Oh, Bud," Ellison breathed, setting the ax down and walking over to him. "Bud, honey, what happened?"

"They found out. Someone musta seen me with you the other day. I hate all this stupid trouble 'tween our families." Bud fought against his tears.

"My God, Buddy, I didn't think... Know what? It's fine. We're gonna show 'em you can live without them."

"But I really _can't, _Ellison! I can't get a job, I can't live with anybody on my side of the river 'cause I'm sure they've got the message by now t' say no, an' I just — oh _God, _what 'm I gonna do?!"

Ellison pulled him into a tight embrace, letting him sob against his chest. Bud threw his arms around him, drawing in a wheezing breath.

"You're gonna stay here."

"I can't—"

"Where ya gonna go, Bud? Be honest with me."

"I dunno," Bud sniffled, clinging to Ellison. "I — I only came here t' see what you thought I should do. I'm so sorry."

"Buddy, ya have nothin' t' be sorry for," Ellison tried to comfort him. "None of this is your fault. Come on, let's get inside. We'll find out if your father will let ya come back t' get your things."

Bud nodded and stepped back, following Ellison inside the house. Ellison let him go inside first, Bud stepping inside the kitchen and chewing on his lip. He moved enough that Ellison could get in and lowered his gaze, trying to ignore the way he could feel Sarah's gaze on him.

"Better fix that guest room across from ours up, Sarah."

She gave Ellison a strange look before leaving the kitchen and going upstairs.

Ellison grabbed his phone off the counter and led Bud to the living room, the two of them sitting down on the couch.

"Here, call somebody. I know ya left your phone there."

Bud hesitantly took Ellison's phone and dialed Tolbert's number. He bit on his lip while he waited for Tolbert to pick up.

"Hello?" Tolbert's voice filtered through the speaker.

"Tol? Hey, uh, can you — can you do me a favor?"

"Bud? Where are you?"

"...I'm at Ellison's. Poppy disowned me n I didn't have a chance t' get anything, so can ya get my stuff? I'll come t' your place n get it."

"Yeah, kiddo, I'll get your stuff for ya. Just... give me a day or two, a'ight? I'll have t' talk Poppy into it first."

"A'ight."

"Why didn't ya call me from your phone?"

"It's still in my room." Bud's heart sunk when he realized what he said. He quickly amended it by saying, "I mean what used to be my room. Please get it b'fore he ruins it, will ya?"

"Yeah, baby, I'll get it. Why'd he disown you?"

"I'm sure he'll tell ya why. I'm sorry you gotta get involved in this."

"Don't be. I'd end up gettin' involved when I realized you weren't there anyways. I'll get your stuff an' I'll bring it to ya. Ya stayin' with Ellison?"

"I reckon so," Bud answered quietly. "I've got nowhere else to go."

"Alright. I'll bring it to ya when I get it. I love you."

"I love you too."

—

Tolbert showed up two days later. Bud had been inside, helping Sarah in the kitchen when Cotton Top came in and told him that Tolbert was there. Well, Cotton didn't know that his name was Tolbert, but he knew he was Bud's brother. Bud thanked him and promised Sarah he'd be back after he got his things before leaving the kitchen.

He walked out on the porch, finding Tolbert shooting him an unamused look. Bud rushed down the steps and hurried over to the truck, stopping in front of Tolbert.

"Got yerself disowned, huh?" Tolbert quirked a brow. Bud nodded mutely. "Bud, why'd ya start hangin' 'round Ellison Hatfield?"

"'Cause he helped me n he's nice. He's not at all what Poppy said he was."

"How'd he help ya, baby?"

"Went out huntin' n fell. He made sure my ankle wasn't broke n talked to me a while so it could rest for a bit b'fore I moved. He's real nice, Tolbert."

"I'm sure he is. Here, I'll set these on the porch n you put 'em wherever you're plannin' on puttin' these."

"Okay," Bud agreed softly. "I'm real sorry."

"You've always had a heart of gold. Never cared what someone's last name is... Reckon we can't do nothin' 'bout it, but I will find a way t' see ya, kid. I'll go insane if I don't."

Bud breathed a laugh as Tolbert handed him two boxes.

"Poppy fight ya on this?" Bud inquired as he made his way toward the porch, Tolbert beside him.

"He don't necessarily know I brought it to ya. All I told him was I was gettin' yer stuff for ya. He said a'ight an' that was that. Mama helped me pack it up, said t' tell ya she loves ya."

"Well, I don't know if she should anymore. I'm not her son."

"You're always gonna be her son, no matter what Poppy says. Biologically, you're the youngest son of Randolph and Sally McCoy. Ya've got nine brothers and sisters, six of which are older than you. Don't let whatever Poppy said get t' your head. You're still a McCoy."

"A disowned McCoy," Bud forced a smile before entering the house.

He went upstairs, placed the boxes against the wall, and headed back down the stairs. He went out on the porch, finding Tolbert setting a box down.

"Look, I know there's a lotta trouble b'tween the Hatfields and our family—"

"Don't think ya can say our family anymore, Tolbert."

"—_but, _I'm glad ya found a place t' go. Even if ya are livin' with a Hatfield now. Stay safe, will ya?"

"I'll try my best. You leavin' now?"

"Yeah, kid. I gotta go."

"Okay," Bud breathed, his eyes watering.

Tolbert sighed.

"C'mere, kid."

Bud did as he was told, stepping down and letting Tolbert pull him into a tight embrace. He whimpered and fought against his tears, holding tightly to Tolbert.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I'm not... I'm not a McCoy."

"You're a McCoy, Bud. You always have been n you always will be. An' when all this is said n done, maybe you can come back."

"He doesn't want me anymore, Tolbert!" Bud shook his head and looked at Tolbert. "If Poppy doesn't want me, that's it. We can't stop him or go against what he says. Poppy is... he's done with me. It's my fault, Tolbert, don't do anything t' make him mad, okay?"

"Okay," he mumbled.

"_Promise me _ya won't say nothin'."

Tolbert looked conflicted. He gritted his teeth, his lips set in a thin line as his brows pinched together. He clenched his jaw while he stared at Bud, his ice-blue eyes filling with tears.

"Fine," he relented. "_God, _I love you so much."

He pulled Bud close again, tears rolling down his face. Bud tried to hold back his own tears but to no avail. His breath hitched as he held tightly to Tolbert, sniffling and placing his head against Tolbert's shoulder. Tolbert kissed Bud's temple.

"I love ya, Tol."

"I've gotta go, baby. I love you."

"I love you too."

—

Bud returned to the kitchen after carrying the rest of his things up to the room he was staying in, sniffing as he sat down and grabbed a potato and a knife, peeling it.

"What's goin' on, Bud?" Sarah asked softly.

"Talked with Tolbert. Reckon it just made all this seem worse now that I have," Bud replied. "It just really hurts, Sarah."

Sarah gave him a sympathetic look, watching the boy as he focused on his task. He hadn't complained when she'd asked him to help her out, had been more than willing to, really, and he'd held a pleasant conversation with her until Cotton Top announced that his brother was there.

"Well, ya've got a good place t' live. If your father gets over this n lets ya go home, you can if ya want. But if ya don't want to, ya don't have to. To be perfectly honest with you, Bud, I think Ellison enjoys your company more than he lets on. He won't admit that 'cause he knows you're hurtin' n wants t' help ya as much as he can right now, but I don't think he realizes how much that would probably help. Ya've been disowned, ya've got it in your mind that no one wants ya — but Ellison does."

"No reason to," Bud muttered.

"Ellison loves you, Bud. He's loved ya for a while. I'd go as far t' say he loves ya like yer his own."

Bud breathed a laugh and shook his head.

"He shouldn't. I'm nothin' but trouble."

"That's not true."

"Yeah, it is. It's okay, I know I'm trouble. Ya don't have t' lie t' me, Sarah. I don't think you can say anything that'll make all this any worse."

"I'm not lying. You ain't trouble."

Ellison entered the kitchen then, taking the empty seat.

"And what did you do today?" Sarah asked, watching as Bud tossed the peeled potato in his hand in the pot before grabbing another.

"Made deliveries in Logan n Pikeville," Ellison answered.

"Anse go with ya?"

"Nope. Cap did."

Sarah hummed.

Ellison tilted his head slightly, observing the fourteen-year-old boy that seemed to be doing his very best to ignore him.

"Hey, kiddo."

"Hey, Ell'son," Bud mumbled, his eyes flicking up and meeting his for a second. "Tolbert brought my stuff."

"Oh, did he? He talk to ya?"

"Mhm," he nodded. "Said Poppy made it plain to him that I wasn't gonna live with him. He really can't go against him 'cause he depends on Poppy, ya know? He works at the timberin' comp'ny n all, an' he just... he can't defy Poppy."

"I'm gonna go check on Cotton," Sarah murmured, standing and leaving the room.

"Well, ya've got a place t' live. Ya ain't out on the streets, that's what's important," Ellison pointed out.

"I'm sorry for bein' such a burden. If I had another place t' go, I wouldn't bother ya at all, I swear I wouldn't," Bud rambled, refusing to meet Ellison's gaze.

"Bud, ya ain't a burden an' ya ain't botherin' me. I happen t' like your company. I love you, Buddy. Don't ever think I don't."

"My own father doesn't want me anymore," Bud chuckled emotionlessly, tossing the potato in the pot. "I don't have a name anymore, Ellison. I highly doubt he's gonna let me go 'round introducin' myself as Randolph McCoy, Junior when he disowned me."

"He fight Tolbert?"

"No."

"He know Tolbert came here?"

"No."

"Ya think he'll let ya go back?"

Bud hesitated. He already knew his father wouldn't allow him to go back. In his father's eyes, Bud had made his bed and now he had to lie in it. In reality, all Bud had done was make a new friend. He liked Ellison, he trusted him. He didn't see why Ellison's last name caused so much trouble.

"...No. I know he won't let me go back."

Ellison sighed heavily and bit down on his lip. He had an idea, something he could do to try to make things better. At the very least, if he did what he wanted to, Bud wouldn't have to deal with hospitals and doctor's offices calling Ran'l each time he went. He wouldn't be going to school in Pikeville either.

"Bud... I'm gonna ask you somethin'. Ya don't have t' give me an answer now — take a few days t' think about it. I want t' talk t' Wall about you. See what I can do t' get legal custody of ya or—or become your legal guardian or whatever it is. It's not adoption; I wouldn't do that unless you wanted it, an' I'm sure ya don't want nothin' like that right now. Legal guardianship would be best, I think. Ya keep your name, it's all the same... it's just that your parents don't have a say over ya anymore. Will you let me do that?"

"Yeah," he nodded without hesitation. He had nothing to lose at this point, why not agree to it? "Yeah, that's fine. Do what ya want, I don't care."

"I don't want t' do anythin' that involves you without your permission," Ellison told him, grasping his hand.

"Ellison... what am I gonna do about my name? It's — I doubt Poppy's gonna let me go around with it. I was his namesake."

"I don't know, son," Ellison sighed. "If ya want, you can change it. We'll still call ya Bud, but we can change your name if you want to."

"Hm..."

"You think about it, alright? We'll do whatever ya want."

"Alright."

—

Bud sat in his room, grabbing one of the boxes and sitting down on the floor. He took his pocket knife and opened it before slicing the tape that closed the box, setting the knife down beside him.

He looked up when the door opened, revealing Ellison and a taller man that he recognized as Wall Hatfield.

"Sorry, kiddo. I went t' knock and it opened."

"It's fine," Bud waved it off, opening the box in front of him. "Ev'rythin' alright?"

"Wall wants t' ask ya a few questions."

"Oh... okay."

"Just yell if ya need me," Ellison gave him a soft smile before leaving.

Wall entered the room and closed the door, eyeing the boy curiously.

"Mind if I sit down?"

"Not at all."

Wall sat down beside Bud, watching the boy as he sorted through the box.

"Your name is Bud, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Well, that's what everyone calls me."

"You're Little Randall," Wall realized, his eyes widening slightly.

"Not anymore," Bud informed him with a tight-lipped smile. "He doesn't want me anymore so I ain't Little Randall. I've just got t' find a different name 's all."

"Right... right, Ellison mentioned ya might end up changin' yer name."

"I'm going to. I've just gotta decide what I want it t' be."

"Ah. If ya don't mind me askin', Bud, what happened?"

"He got mad 'cause he found out I've been hangin' 'round Ellison. I reckon somebody saw us when we were talkin' down on the riverbank a few days ago 'cause I ran into him while I was fishin'. Literally. Reckon someone saw us laughin' n talkin' the way we always do n went an' told Poppy. When I got home, he asked me 'bout it n I was truthful. He told me I wasn't his son anymore n that he didn't care where I went, I was t' get out of that house."

Wall sighed heavily.

"Are ya sure ya wanna go through with this, Bud? Can't stop it once it's done."

"Yeah, I'm sure. He's not gonna let me come back n I've gotta have someone t' depend on, right? Like... God, I can't have people callin' them every time I go t' the doctor or somethin' like that. I doubt he'd give permission knowin' I'm with a Hatfield."

"Well, I suppose you got yourself a point. Have any idea what ya might change your name to?"

"Not really, no. I'm gonna make a list later... all the names I like, ya know? There's gotta be one I can live with the rest of my life."

"So, is Ellison gonna go for adoption or what?"

"He said he wouldn't do that unless I wanted him to. I think it's just legal guardianship or whatever. I just... I don't wanna be a burden."

"Ellison won't ever see ya as a burden. He already loves ya like you're his own; I saw it in his eyes. How long ya known him?"

"Geez, we got by with talkin' to each other for... two years? Maybe three. No, two. I was twelve when I met him."

"What made ya come here?"

"I didn't know who else t' talk to. I figured Ellison would know where I could go since I knew Poppy was gonna make it plain t' the family that I couldn't live with any of them. I didn't mean for Ellison t' take me in like he did... I was jus' hopin' he could tell me where t' go."

"Ellison ain't gonna turn you away. I've heard about ya from the time he met ya an' I finally get t' meet ya, even if it is under terrible circumstances. But I promise ya that I'm gonna do my very best t' help you n Ellison with this case. Your father might not give it up so easy."

"I know."

"I'm glad ya do. Don't fret about it. I'll get it all straightened out."

"Okay."

—

**_October 2016_**

Ellison looked over at Bud as he sat down beside him, smiling softly at the boy. He knew that Bud had never been in a courtroom before and he was nervous. Ellison paid no mind to him when he grasped his hand under the table, fighting to keep a straight face while he gave Ellison's hand a gentle squeeze.

He looked behind him when he heard the door open, seeing his parents and older brother Jim. Bud turned around again when he saw the heat of Ran'l's glare and hung his head. It wasn't his fault; none of this was his fault. He hadn't asked Ran'l to disown him. All Bud had wanted to do was get along with the family they were supposedly fighting with and had been for fourteen years.

And really, he wasn't sure why he was shocked his father had reacted in such a way. He should've known what was going to happen if he ever found out. Bud had been told his entire life that the Hatfields were nothing but cold-hearted people and a bunch of cold-blooded murderers, and Ellison was neither of those things.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around, seeing Jim.

"I'm not gonna quit callin' you my brother," he mumbled lowly. "And if I could get by with it, I would hug ya, but I can't. Most he agreed to was lettin' me talk t' ya a few minutes. Ya doin' okay?"

"Reckon so," Bud whispered. "'S diff'rent."

"Yeah, I know. Next time Tolbert goes t' see ya, I'm gonna go with him."

"You two are gonna git yerselves killed," Bud stated, the corner of his lip turning upward in amusement. "What happened t' always doin' what Poppy says?"

"Oh, that? That flew out the window the second I heard he disowned you for talkin' t' Ellison. But I _do _plan on havin' a talk wit' William Johnson since he likes t' cause trouble in our family." He glanced over toward his parents and sighed. "I love ya, kid."

"I love ya too."

"Heard ya might change your name. Whatcha gonna change it to?" Jim queried.

"I dunno," Bud answered honestly. "I'm... kind of narrowing it down."

"Kind of?" Jim quirked a brow.

"Mhm. The list ain't as long as it used t' be, I'll tell ya that."

Jim chuckled and gave Bud's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"I've gotta go, but I love ya, kid."

"Love ya, Jim."

Bud turned around as he left, glancing at Ellison.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'm fine."

—

Bud wasn't sure why he was shocked that Ran'l and Sally had signed their parental rights over to Ellison. Maybe he'd expected his father to react differently to all of this, he didn't really know, but it had _hurt _when Ran'l and Sally agreed to give up their rights as his parents and give them to Ellison.

He knew Ellison had seen the look that crossed his face for a split second, but Bud had quickly hidden it and kept his face expressionless after that.

And now, seated in the passenger seat of Ellison's pickup truck, Bud wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He knew he should have felt relieved that they'd gotten what they went in for, but he supposed there had been a small part of him that hoped Ran'l would have been over his anger by now and would let him come home.

But he didn't.

Ran'l — the few times he did look in Bud's direction — gave the boy a glare that could kill. Bud hadn't done anything wrong; he knew he hadn't. He didn't think talking to someone who happened to have the surname _Hatfield _was a big deal.

"You alright, Bud?" Ellison's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

Bud slowly nodded, quietly murmuring, "I'm okay."

"What d'ya say we go get somethin' t' eat?"

"Okay."

Ellison sighed and shifted into reverse. It was going to be a _long _day.

—

On Bud's fifteenth birthday, he was dragged to Devil Anse's house. On the way there, it was explained to him that it was a tradition to have a family dinner on birthdays and now that Bud was part of Ellison's family, he got to experience it.

After arriving, Bud had mostly kept to himself, sitting on the far end of the porch and watching Cotton Top wrestle with Johnse Hatfield, who could've easily overpowered the albino boy but was letting him win.

"Hey there."

Bud yelped and jumped, his head whipping to his left, finding Cap Hatfield. Well, his name was actually William and he'd been called Will up until his accident last year.

"Good Lord, ya scared me," Bud breathed. "What'd you do, follow a wildcat t' learn how t' do that?"

"I wish I could say yes," Cap chuckled, sitting down beside him. "So, are you a Hatfield now? I heard Uncle Ellison was tryin' t' adopt ya or whatever."

"He just has legal guardianship right now. My parents signed their parental rights over."

"Oh... that bother you?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "It really does. I mean, they raised me, ya know? It hurts t' see 'em agree t' sign over their rights like it's absolutely nothing to them."

"Cap, yer father wants ya."

Cap nodded and got up, leaving Bud with Ellison, who sat down and turned his head toward him.

"What're you two talkin' 'bout?"

"Diff'rent things. Mostly that I'm kinda... no one now."

"What're ya talkin' 'bout? Yer still Bud."

"No, I'm not," he denied, shaking his head. "I don't know how t' describe it, Ellison, but it just doesn't feel right anymore. I'm not Bud McCoy. I can't be a McCoy anymore."

"You can be a Hatfield. Ya kinda are now."

"How so?" Bud turned his head toward him.

"I'm your legal guardian, ain't I? Makes ya part of the family."

"I don't think I belong anywhere, Ellison," he confessed, averting his gaze and swallowing past the lump in his throat.

"Yeah, ya do. If they don't want ya 'cross the river, ya belong here. Ya belong here with me. I've always got your back, son."

"Thanks, Ellison."

"Think nothin' of it. When ya gonna see your brothers?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "They told me they'd text me when they figured out when they could get t'gether. Pharmer's goin' too. Ain't seen him since the day I got disowned."

"Just let me know. I'll take ya wherever y'all wanna meet up at."

"Okay."

"Now, what I was supposed t' do when I first came over here. Anse wants t' meet ya. Ya've got quite the reputation in this family."

"For causin' trouble?" he mumbled.

"No, for bein' the one I always talk 'bout. They've known about ya from the day we met, Buddy."

"I'm nothin' t' talk about," Bud laughed, gazing at Ellison with a childlike innocence. "I'm sure there's plenty of other people t' talk about. Like Cotton."

"Oh, they hear all 'bout Cotton, too," Ellison grinned. He let it fall and scratched the side of his face before adding, "I think they kinda dread it when they see me comin'. They get t' hear all 'bout my kid n the kid they don't know that's now part of the family. It's 'bout time ya learn Anse ain't as bad as yer father makes him out t' be."

"Ya sure? With a name like Devil Anse, there's gotta be some truth in it."

"We only add the Devil on to it when he gets mad," Ellison jested, earning a small smile. "C'mon, I'll introduce ya."

—

**_December 2016_**

Bud had gotten better within the last month. He had unpacked the boxes and made the room feel and look homier, and he'd started to let his guard down. He didn't care to have fun anymore.

He'd met the Hatfields — even Jim Vance — and had found that they weren't the people they were made out to be. Jim even had a dog named Mister Howls, and while Bud could see that Jim could probably kill someone, he doubted the gruff man would do it in cold blood.

Bud had never heard of anyone planning a bonfire in December, but the Hatfields had and that was where he was headed along with Ellison and Cotton Top. Sarah had opted to stay home because she wasn't feeling well and had insisted that the boys go.

So they did.

Bud had started to think of Ellison as his father the last few months. He'd never admitted it out loud, but he'd grown so close to Ellison that he viewed him as his father. He wasn't sure he'd ever admit that, as he didn't really want to risk losing Ellison, but he didn't care to admit it to himself.

"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout, kiddo?" Ellison cast a glance at him before focusing on the road again.

"Different things," Bud responded.

"That right? What kinda things?"

"A new name, all the things I've learned since I've lived with you, things like that."

"Those are two very different things," Ellison chuckled. "Speakin' of the name, have ya decided on that yet?"

"I think so," Bud nodded. "I just don't have a last name."

"Well, you can take Hatfield if ya want. You're one of us now."

"But I'm not really... in the family, ya know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I get what you're sayin'. But you can take it if you want to."

"Okay."

—

Bud sat between Ellison and Anse, his head leaned against Ellison's shoulder. Cotton Top was saying something — Bud really couldn't hear him very well — and earned laughter from Ellison and Cap, the two closest to him.

Ellison looked over at Bud, noticing how quiet he was.

"You alright?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, Daddy, I'm fine," he answered without giving his response much thought. It was when he realized what he said that he moved away from Ellison, knocking into Anse's shoulder. "I am so sorry!"

Ellison, realizing that Bud had said it so softly that no one else heard him, motioned for him to follow him. Bud got up, following Ellison back toward the house, a lump forming in his throat.

_What was he thinking?_

He'd answered Ellison without a second thought, hadn't even thought his answer through, and now he was in trouble again. His throat constricted as he fought to keep his composure, his mind racing as he thought of everything Ellison could say to him.

If Ellison told him he had to leave, he didn't know where he would go. He couldn't go to any of the McCoys; he wouldn't put them in a position that could get them in trouble with Ran'l. He couldn't go to the Hatfields because they'd ask what happened and Bud wouldn't be able to admit that.

Ellison sat down on the back porch, patting the spot beside him. Bud hesitantly sat down, hanging his head low and clasping his hands together tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"Hey, relax, Bud. I'm not mad."

"You're not?" he blinked, turning his head toward Ellison.

"Why would I be?" Ellison pulled a face.

"I just — I... I'm so sorry," Bud muttered, hanging his head again. "I never meant t' start thinkin' of you that way. And once I realized I did, I never meant t' say anything about it, honest I didn't! I am so sorry."

"Woah, _relax, _Bud. I'm not mad."

"I didn't—I didn't even think, I'm so sorry. I promise I won't do it again."

"Bud, hey, look at me," Ellison instructed gently, hooking a finger under Bud's chin and lifting his head so he could see him. He could see the tears in Bud's hazel eyes, but that wasn't what made his heart break. It was the genuine terror that shone in them.

"I am so sorry," he said again, his eyes meeting Ellison's.

"What're ya so scared for?"

Bud's eyes flicked down as he fought to keep his breathing steady.

"I don't — I can't... 'm real sorry. Please don't get mad."

"Ya think I'm gonna get mad?"

"I never meant t' think of you as my father, I swear I didn't. I just — I didn't even really realize I did until last week, and I've tried so hard to stop. I'm so sorry, please don't get mad. I don't wanna get hit with a belt again."

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Ellison told him, gently placing a hand on his cheek. "I won't ever hurt ya, Bud. You call me anything you want, I don't care. I just thought ya wouldn't want me askin' where that came from in front of everybody since no one else heard it."

"I — you're not mad?"

"No, I'm not mad."

"I'm so sorry. I don't even know when I started thinkin' of you that way."

Ellison turned Bud's head from side to side, humming while he observed him. Bud looked at him strangely.

"Yeah, I think you could pass for my kid. Wrong eye color and hair color, but then again, my son has blonde hair and blue eyes."

Bud couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled from his lips. Ellison pulled him into an embrace, Bud placing his head on Ellison's shoulder.

"Y' sure ya don't care?"

"I'm sure. I think of ya as my son anyways, so what's it hurt?"

Bud let out a huff of amusement.

"Good point."

Ellison laughed at that.

"Well, thank you. So, can I safely assume your name will be changed to Hatfield?"

"Yeah," Bud nodded.

"No adoption, right?" Ellison pulled his fingers through Bud's hair.

"Not unless you want to. I mean... if I was you, I wouldn't sign a paper that made me your son. I caused a lot of trouble the last time I was somebody's son."

"I don't think ya caused any trouble. If ya want it, we'll do it."

"I don't wanna do that t' you," Bud slowly shook his head. "I don't want ya feelin' like ya have to or anything. I'm not the best person to want as your son."

"None of us are perfect, kid. Quit bein' so hard on yourself. I think ya'd make a wonderful son. Well, ya do make a wonderful son. I think of ya as mine anyways, so all that'd do is make it official or whatever word Wall wants t' use for it. He'd probably use _legal._"

Bud coughed a laugh and sat up, his eyes trailing back toward the family gathered around the fire.

"Ya really wouldn't care?" Bud looked over at him.

"No, I wouldn't care. Ya wanna do it?"

Bud thought on it for a moment. It wasn't like Ran'l would ever want him back. He'd rather be called Ellison's son than no one's son.

"Yeah," he nodded after a moment, his hazel eyes meeting Ellison's brown ones. "I wanna do it."

"A'ight then, we'll do it." Ellison's hands slapped against his thighs as he nodded slightly. "First thing t'morrow, we'll get it started. Good thing about havin' a judge in the family is that we can get legal stuff done faster. Bad thing about havin' a judge in the family is that we get to hear him gripe about all the cases he has to hear."

Bud snorted.

"C'mon, let's join 'em before they come over here."

Bud got up and walked beside Ellison, who threw an arm around his shoulders. Bud, out of habit, tucked himself against Ellison's side until they reached the log they'd been sitting on. He took his seat beside Anse, who was looking at his younger brother suspiciously.

"Wall, I'm gonna need you t' help me with somethin'," Ellison sighed, sitting down beside Bud.

"And what's that, Ellison?" Wall asked rather bluntly, shooting his younger brother an unamused look.

Ellison looked at Bud, silently asking permission to tell them. Bud nodded swiftly, giving a silent answer before he focused on the flames in front of him.

"I'm gonna adopt Bud."

"Oh, so you're finally making it legal?" Wall's eyes shifted between the two of them.

Bud and Ellison burst into laughter, earning an odd look from everyone but Cotton.

"I told ya he'd use the word legal."

—

"Hey, kiddo!"

"Tolbert," Bud gave a small laugh, hugging his older brother tightly. "Tolbert, I got somethin' t' tell ya."

"What's that?" Tolbert queried, watching Bud as he nervously tugged on his sleeve.

"I did somethin' last week. Started somethin', too. I don't — I don't want ya t' get mad."

"Bud, I never get mad at you," Tolbert laughed.

"Well, ya might over this," Bud laughed nervously. "But — remember that I'm not a McCoy anymore, alright?"

"You're startin' t' scare me."

"I changed my name last week," Bud blurted. That wasn't entirely how he'd planned to tell Tolbert, but it got the point across and that was good enough for him.

"You what?" Tolbert's voice dropped to a murmur.

"I changed my name. I'm not Randolph McCoy, Junior anymore."

Tolbert stared at him for a moment in shock, trying to process what he'd been told.

"Alright, baby, what'd ya change it to?"

"Tyler."

"Just Tyler?" Tolbert quirked a brow. Bud took a deep breath.

"N-no. It's Tyler Jackson Hatfield."

"Tyler Jackson... it suits ya, kiddo, but why Jackson?"

"I couldn't decide b'tween the two of 'em n Ellison said I could use one of 'em as a middle name if I wanted to, so I did."

Tolbert laughed, shaking his head before kissing his baby brother's temple.

"So, do I still call ya Bud, or do I call ya Tyler?"

"Whatever ya want, I don't care. Please don't tell Poppy."

"I won't. What's the other thing?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Uh, Ellison's gonna adopt me."

"I thought he already did," Tolbert murmured, brows furrowed in confusion.

"No, he's just my legal guardian right now. Poppy n Mama signed their rights over, but he's not my... parent. Not yet, anyways."

"Ah. Look, here comes Jim n Calvin," Tolbert pointed toward their brothers.

Bud turned, seeing them and laughing, as Calvin took off in a sprint with Jim on his heels. He'd said something, then.

"Hey, Bud! How ya doin'?"

"Better than you since Jim's after ya."

"Real funny, _Randolph._"

"Ya can't call him that anymore," Tolbert smirked.

"Can't do what?" Jim asked as he approached, as he'd clearly given up his chase.

"Call Bud Randolph," Tolbert answered.

"Why not?" Calvin demanded. "It's his name, ain't it?"

"Nope. I changed it."

"An' neither one of ya better breathe a word t' Poppy about it," Tolbert shot them a look.

"What's yer name then?" Jim asked, moving to where he stood next to Bud.

"Tyler." He glanced at Tolbert, who gave an encouraging nod. "Tyler Jackson Hatfield."

"Oh, Poppy would _kill you,_" Calvin muttered, his face pinched in a distressed expression. "He ain't ever gonna let ya come back with a name like that, Bud."

"He wasn't gonna let me come back anyways," Bud snapped. "I didn't know it was possible t' shame the entire family by talkin' t' someone. He signed his parental rights over, he has no say over me anymore."

"He did sign them over," Jim sighed. "So did Mama."

"They don't have t' know I changed my name. I shoulda kept the old one out of spite."

"Ya finally mad at 'em?" Tolbert questioned, leaning against the side of his truck. "I've been waitin' for ya t' get mad over all this."

"I don't think mad is the right word. I'm upset, but I'm not mad."

"Oh, okay. What're ya doin' for Christmas?"

"Prob'ly goin' t' Anse's, why?"

"Just askin'. Y'all always go t' Anse's house?"

"Mhm. They're not as bad as Poppy makes 'em out t' be. I like 'em," Bud shrugged innocently.

"Bud..."

"What?" He focused on Calvin, who pointed behind him. Bud turned around, finding Sally standing there. And for a few seconds, he stared at her, trying to form a word. Finally, he managed to force out, "Mama?"

"Bud."

"I... what're—what're you doin' here?" he stumbled over his words, trying to keep himself calm. It wasn't like he was talking to Ran'l. It was _Sally._

"Calvin told me ya'd be here. I wanted t' see ya, son."

"I'm not your son," he snapped harshly. "Ya gave me up, remember?"

"You think I wanted to?" Sally asked softly.

"You coulda said no," he stated with a trembling voice. "Ya coulda said no, but ya didn't. I'm not your son anymore."

"But you are—"

"I'm _not. _Ya signed your rights over. How d'ya think that felt, watching you n Poppy just willingly give me up, huh? 'Cause I can tell ya right now, Mama, it didn't feel very good."

Sally stayed silent and sighed heavily.

"Now, what do you want?" he asked slowly.

"I just wanted t' talk to ya, Bud. Make sure you're doin' alright."

"I'm doin' just fine. I've done quite a bit here lately."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah. I highly doubt you n Poppy would approve, but I did it anyway."

"What'd ya do?" she queried, tilting her head slightly.

"Changed my name."

"Bud—"

"Well, what was I supposed to do, Mama? I highly doubt Poppy woulda let me keep Randolph McCoy, Junior after he disowned me _and _signed his rights over. So I changed it."

"What'd ya change it to?" Sally lowered her gaze. She couldn't remember a time that Bud had been mad at her, but she knew he had every right to be.

"Tyler Hatfield."

Her heart stopped and her gaze snapped up and met his.

"You didn't—"

"So what if I did? Ain't like it's anything to ya anymore."

"Bud, what's happened t' you?"

"What's happened _t' me?_" He gawked at her. "My God, I've been disowned and watched my parents sign their rights over to someone they don't even know. I was fourteen when that happened. I've had Ellison Hatfield help me through all this an' ya haven't cared. Ya haven't. No one who cares signs their rights over the way ya did, _Sally._"

Bud lowered his head, tugging on his sleeve.

"I've gotta go," he said quickly before leaving.

He headed straight for Ellison's truck, which was parked a short distance away so Bud wouldn't have to walk across the parking lot just to see his brothers. He got in it and shut the door.

"Who's that? That Sally?"

"Yeah," he whispered.

"Are you okay?"

"No."

He looked at Ellison and shook his head.

"I'm always the one in the wrong, ya know that? I ain't s'pposed t' feel the way I do after I watched her sign her rights over t' someone she don't even know," he ranted, buckling his seatbelt. "I ain't s'pposed t' change my name after my parents just _give me up _because I talked t' someone with the last name Hatfield. How am I s'pposed t' feel?"

"The way you do now," Ellison answered softly. "In this case, I think you're the one in the right."

"They'd never say that," Bud scoffed. "I'm always wrong, they're always right. Who cares that they kicked a fourteen-year-old out with no place to go, then called the rest of the fam'ly an' told 'em not t' let him stay with them? Certainly not me."

"Ya care, Bud. And it's okay t' care. It's okay t' be hurt, too."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to feel when I see her. She gave me up. I don't want t' see her."

"Then don't see her. Tell them ya don't wanna see her or Randall an' it'll be fine."

"Don't have t' worry 'bout Randall. He won't ever come t' see me."

"That bother ya?"

"Not as much as it should." Bud tapped his fingers against his leg, falling silent for a few seconds. "Can we go home now, Daddy?"

"Yeah, son. We can go home."

—

After returning home, Bud went straight to his room and closed the door. Ellison explained what had happened to Sarah, who sighed and shook her head with the remark: "Why can't those two leave him alone?"

It wasn't until after supper that Ellison started to worry. He'd sent Cotton up to fetch him for supper, but Cotton had returned alone with a meek, "He says he ain't hungry."

So after supper, Ellison made his way up the stairs to Bud's room. He knocked on the door, heard a quiet, "come in," and pushed the door open. He stepped inside and closed it, finding Bud lying in the middle of his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Ellison sighed and approached the bed, tilting his head slightly.

"Ya mind if I lay down?"

"No."

Bud scooted over so Ellison could lay down beside him, then curled up against him. He nuzzled against his chest, throwing his arms around Ellison's torso.

"What's on your mind, kiddo?" Ellison asked, carding his fingers through Bud's hair.

"Why am I never good enough?"

"What d'ya mean by that?"

"I mean... I'm not good enough for anybody, Ellison. My own parents gave me up without a second thought. Why am I not good enough?"

"Hey, you're more than good enough. Just because they gave you up don't mean you're not. They mighta gave ya up, but ya got someone who wants ya. I'm always gonna be here for ya, no matter what ya do."

"I don't understand it, Daddy," Bud cried, bringing his right hand up and wiping at his face. "Why didn't they want me?"

"I don't know, son," Ellison murmured.

"I thought I was getting better. I thought I'd gotten over it an' I could change my name n get a new start, ya know? Then she shows up and... I realize I'm not over it at all. I've just been able to push it back so far that it didn't bother me anymore, but the second I see her or him it's gonna come rushing back because they just _gave me up. _There wasn't any time to argue. They gave me to a person they don't even know. Am I really that bad?"

"You're not bad at all. Ya've made my life better since ya've been livin' here with me."

"How so? The way I see it, I've been a burden to ya."

"I earned another son. That's a good thing. You're Cotton Top's age, so I at least know what the heck I'm doin', or I'm close to bein' on the same page with both of ya, so I've got that goin' for me. I may not have had you your whole life, might not be your real father, but I promise ya I'll always love ya. Okay?"

"Okay," Bud nodded slightly. "I love you."

"I love you too."

—

Bud fell asleep.

Sarah went searching for Ellison, opening the door to Bud's room and finding both of them fast asleep, Bud curled up against her husband with his arms wrapped around him. Ellison had one arm wrapped around Bud, the other laying across his middle, his head tilted toward Bud's.

She gave a breathless chuckle and carefully closed the door, deciding to let them sleep.

—

"_Tyler!_"

Bud's head whipped toward the voice, finding Cap. Cap stopped beside him, brushing his shaggy hair out of his eyes.

"Ya know, I have to admit, Ty, I like yer new name better."

Bud playfully rolled his eyes and smacked the side of Cap's head.

"Why?"

"I dunno. I just don't like Randolph very much. I think Tyler suits ya better than Randolph ever did."

"Thanks, I guess."

"No problem."

"So... do we always come here when the family gets t'gether?"

"Not always. Usually, though. Sometimes we go t' someone else's house 'cause it's like a family meeting or whatever. We just end up having supper at their place."

"Oh, that makes sense."

"I'm gonna go make sure Cotton Top don't get himself in any trouble. I'll talk to ya later."

"Okay."

Cap ran off to find Cotton, leaving Bud alone with his thoughts. He approached the front porch, forcing a smile as he sat down with his back against a post. Ellison sat in the rocking chair while 'Lias and Jim sat across from Bud, Mister Howls leaving his owner and making his way over to the boy.

He plopped down and put his head on Bud's lap, Jim muttering, "Traitor."

Ellison nearly choked on his coffee while Elias barked a laugh. Bud hung his head to hide his own amusement at the situation, regaining his composure before looking toward Ellison.

"You a'ight?"

"Fine, son, fine," he coughed, hitting his chest a little roughly before clearing his throat. "Good Lord, Jim."

"Oh, so that's my fault?" Jim drawled.

"Yes. Because you're the one who said it."

"Bud, tell one of them ghost stories you made up. Show Jim what ya've got," Anse chuckled as he joined the group, sitting down in the rocking chair he'd dragged from the other side of the porch.

"I doubt anyone wants t' hear one of those," Bud gave a breathless chuckle.

"I don't mind hearin' 'em," Ellison shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder how you come up with the things ya do, but they're good stories. Scary stories, too. Ever heard one of the ones that's just scary? No ghosts, nothing really paranormal. Just something that could probably actually happen. Every now n then there is like a curse or somethin', though."

"I'm gettin' the impression that you tell a lot of stories," Jim remarked.

"More like I let him read them to get an opinion," Bud corrected, shooting Ellison a look. "They're not that scary."

"There have been a few that were creepy, kiddo."

Bud shrugged innocently.

"Why don't ya tell one?" 'Lias chuckled. "See what happens."

"A'ight," Bud sighed as Johnse approached.

"What's goin' on?" he questioned, taking a seat.

"Bud's gonna tell us a story he made up," Jim answered without giving away what kind of story it was. "Ellison said he makes some good ones."

"Oh, he does," Ellison nodded, suppressing a laugh.

"Y'all are so mean," Bud laughed, his eyes flicking to each man. "Ya should at least give him a warning."

"'Bout what?" Johnse's brows furrowed.

"Don't worry 'bout it, son," Anse interjected. "I think he can handle it without the warning. And if he can't... well, I reckon we'll have somethin' good ta laugh at t'day."

"A'ight."

—

**_February 2017_**

Bud shuffled into the house with an armful of firewood, going into the living room and bending down carefully, letting them fall out of his arms and onto the floor. He tossed a piece of wood onto the fire and stacked the rest, standing and moving to the couch.

"Hey, Ty," Ellison greeted, letting the boy curl up against him. "What's the matter?"

"Don't feel the greatest," he rasped, closing his eyes and wincing at the pain speaking caused. "My throat hurts. Kinda feels like it's on fire, kinda feels like someone's cuttin' it with a razor blade on the inside."

"Ooh," Ellison winced sympathetically. "That's a terrible thought, kiddo."

"Sorry."

"Talkin' ain't gonna help none."

"Neither is stayin' completely quiet."

"Here, let me up n I'll go get ya somethin' cold. That might help it."

"Mkay."

Bud moved, allowing Ellison to get up. He left the room for a moment and returned with a pint of vanilla ice-cream.

"I know ya prefer the mint chocolate chip stuff, but vanilla's probably gonna be a lot easier on your throat."

"Yeah, you're right," Bud mumbled. "Thanks."

"No problem, son. Though that talkin' ain't helpin' much either." Ellison shot him a playful glare.

"Very funny, Daddy."

"I thought it was," Ellison shrugged innocently, sitting down beside him again. Bud moved closer to him, letting him wrap an arm around him. "What's your plan if that don't work?"

"Suffer through it?"

"Well, that's not exactly the response I expected, but okay. That's... totally up to you, Ty. Ya care if I call ya Ty?"

"No. Y' can call me whatever ya want," Bud forced out, opening the pint of ice-cream. "Ya did adopt me. I think ya have the right t' call me whatever ya want to."

"Well, thank ya, son," Ellison smiled softly.

"'S no problem, Daddy."

Ellison laughed a little and kissed Bud's temple. Bud looked up at him, his hazel eyes meeting Ellison's brown eyes. Bud smiled and nuzzled against him.

"I love ya, son."

—

Bud jerked awake to the sound of his door opening. He blinked a few times in an attempt to clear his bleary vision, propping himself up on one elbow and barely making out Cotton Top's form.

"Bud... can I sleep in here t'night?"

"Sure."

Bud winced at the sound of his voice and scooted back, allowing Cotton Top to get on the bed. He laid down next to Bud and curled up against him, letting his new brother hold him.

It had become some sort of routine for them. Whenever Cotton Top had a bad dream or couldn't sleep, he went to Bud and stayed with him that night. It had been done so often the last three months that it no longer frightened Ellison when he discovered Cotton wasn't in his room. Instead, he headed straight for Bud's room and made sure both boys were there, sleeping soundly.

So Bud didn't mind it. He liked Cotton's company, even if he was a little different from everyone else. Cotton was described to him as slow-minded and half-witted, but Bud thought Cotton was fine just the way he was.

It had taken a little while for Cotton to fully warm up to Bud. Sure, he knew who Bud was because of the occasional visit or the times Bud could get by with talking to Ellison when he saw him out in public before he'd been disowned, but he hadn't known Bud very well. And now that Cotton trusted him, the two were practically inseparable any time they went to Anse's house.

"I had a nightmare, Buddy."

"'S terr'ble. Y' wanna talk 'bout it?"

"Not really," Cotton whispered, taking hold of Bud's right hand.

"Okay. Ya okay?"

"Yeah... 'm fine."

Bud let Cotton hold his hand, his left arm wrapped around the albino boy that had tucked his head beneath Bud's chin. He rubbed his back, Cotton humming in contentment, still holding onto Bud's hand. Bud didn't mind it; if it helped Cotton calm himself down, Bud didn't mind it at all.

Usually, Bud would offer to tell the boy a story, but given the way his voice was, he didn't think that was wise. It would disappear in the middle of a sentence and he really didn't need to be talking longer than necessary. His throat hurt enough as it was.

Cotton didn't seem to mind the silence tonight. On the nights Bud didn't offer to tell a story, Cotton would ask him to, but he hadn't done that.

"Buddy?"

"Yes, Elli?"

"Thank you."

"Fer what?"

"Lettin' me sleep in here."

"Think nothin' of it, Elli. Get some sleep."

—

Ellison knew that he'd have to get Cotton Top up eventually. He had to get ready for the doctor's appointment he had and he couldn't very well do that if he spent the entire day sleeping.

So he begrudgingly made his way up the stairs, dreading waking Cotton. Cotton had the tendency to be a little hateful if he didn't wake up on his own and Ellison never enjoyed it when his son was in a bad mood. It seemed that he could turn his back for half a second and he'd managed to cause havoc.

Ellison sighed and pushed the door open, making his way over to Cotton and gently tapping on his shoulder. He couldn't shake his shoulder; Bud was holding him and he only needed to wake one of them, not both.

"Cotton."

Cotton stirred and buried his face in the crook of Bud's neck.

"_Cotton._"

"Daddy?" Bud mumbled groggily, cracking a single eye open, his voice a little worse than what it had been the day before. "Wha' y' doin'?"

"Gotta get Cotton up. He's got a doctor's 'pointment t'day."

"Mm..."

"Go back t' sleep, Buddy."

Bud's brows pinched together, him shifting ever so slightly.

"Y' never call me that anymore."

"I know, sorry. Here, move your arms for me."

Bud did as he was told, pulling his arms away from Cotton, who hadn't the slightest idea Bud had even moved. Ellison thanked him and gently shook Cotton's shoulder.

"Hey. _Psst. _Cotton, wake up, son."

Cotton stirred and woke, turning over and looking at his father.

"Mm?"

"Wake up, son. Ya gotta go get dressed."

Cotton slowly got up, sliding out of bed and rubbing his right eye with the heel of his hand.

"Go on, go get dressed," Ellison ushered him toward the door. Cotton grunted and padded down the hallway to his room. "As for you, Tyler, I'll see if I can get Levicy t' come stay with ya while we're gone."

"Why?"

"'Cause yer sick, son. I don't like leavin' ya here by yourself when you're sick."

"Oh. Okay."

Ellison walked back over to the bed, bending down and brushing Bud's hair out of his eyes. His eyes scanned his face and he placed the back of his hand to Bud's forehead.

"My God, yer burnin' up," he mumbled, brows furrowing. "I'll be right back, a'ight?"

"A'ight."

—

Bud cracked a single eye open when the door to his room opened, revealing Levicy.

"Hey, honey," she smiled softly at him. "Yer daddy told me ya ain't feelin' too good."

"No, ma'am," Bud forced out. "He won't even let me outta bed."

Levicy laughed a little at that. She crossed the room, placing the back of her hand to his forehead. She hummed in displeasure.

"I can see why he's forcin' ya t' stay in bed. We'll get that fever t' break. I did run int' someone while I was pullin' in... Wanna see 'em?"

"See who?"

"Let me go get him."

Bud made a noise in the back of his throat, pushing himself up to a sitting position. He shivered when the cold air hit his bare skin, bringing his hands up and rubbing his eyes.

"Bud? Bud, honey, ya scared me half t' death when ya didn't answer me — oh my God, what's wrong?"

"Tol?" Bud turned toward the door. "What're you doin' here?"

"Well, I've tried t' text ya an' call ya all mornin', honey. Ya didn't answer n I got worried."

"Oh. Can y' get me a shirt, please? Top drawer."

"Sure thing, kiddo. So... what happened to your voice?"

"I dunno. Reckon it's somethin' like strep. What it feels like, anyways."

Bud caught the shirt Tolbert tossed to him, swiftly pulling it on.

"Ellison adopted me last month."

"Oh, did he?" Tolbert murmured, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Ya like bein' his son?"

Bud nodded mutely. He did like being Ellison's son. Ellison didn't get mad at him for talking to someone with the last name McCoy. Ellison hadn't got mad at him at all, really.

"I'm glad, baby. I still claim ya as my brother, though. I miss ya an awful lot."

"Miss y' too. 'M sorry I caused s' much trouble."

"Don't ya worry none about that," Tolbert spoke softly. "Ya didn't cause no trouble. It was Poppy that caused trouble. He never shoulda disowned ya for talkin' t' Ellison. He shoulda jus' told ya not t' talk to him no more. An' him n Mama never shoulda signed their rights over. Ya didn't deserve any of that, baby. I don't even know why our families are havin' trouble, but the Hatfields have treated ya like one of their own n I'm glad for it. Ya deserve t' be happy, Bud."

"I like livin' wit' Ellison. He don't get mad when I talk t' you, Jim, Cal, or Pharmer... He didn't even get mad that day I talked t' Mama. I've never seen him mad, Tol."

"You will eventually. I've heard Ellison's a man t' be feared when he's angry, but I don't know how much truth is in it. It came from the same people who swear on their lives they saw Anse wrestle a wildcat when he was a teenager."

"Anse never wrestled a wildcat."

"I know that n you know that, but there's some crazy people who don't know that."

Bud huffed in amusement.

"Tolbert, watch a movie with me. Please?"

"Sure thing, kiddo. Ya want anything?"

"No."

Tolbert sighed and moved to where he sat propped up against the headboard, Bud curling up against him. Bud had missed it. He'd missed curling up next to his older brother to watch a movie and he'd missed being able to go to him when he had a nightmare and threw himself into a panic attack after he woke up.

Bud had gotten a lot better at calming himself down.

He was almost certain that Ellison didn't know a thing about them and he planned to keep it that way. They embarrassed Bud and he wouldn't mention them unless he absolutely had to. And even in that situation, it would be done with an astounding amount of reluctance.

"I love you, Tolbert," Bud mumbled, his voice barely there.

"I love you too. Rest yer voice a bit, honey. It's gettin' t' where I can't understand ya."

Bud nodded to show he'd heard him and nuzzled against Tolbert's chest, his arms wrapped around his brother's torso. His eyes were glued on the TV, sighing contentedly when Tolbert started playing with his hair.

"I love you, kiddo."

"Love you too."

—

Cotton Top was in Bud's room again that evening. Bud didn't mind it; it was nice to have someone there with him. And this time, Cotton was silent. Ellison had explained to him that Bud wasn't feeling well and that he'd lost his voice, which made it hard and painful to talk. So Cotton climbed into bed with Bud and just laid there, letting Bud hold him and play with his blonde hair.

"Tyler? Hey, kiddo, ya still awake?" Ellison asked as he opened the door.

Bud propped himself up on his elbow, raising an inquisitive brow.

"C'mere a minute."

Bud got up, shuffling over to Ellison, who gently pulled him out into the hallway and closed the door. Bud looked at him strangely, Ellison smiling at him.

"I wanna show ya somethin'. I made this for ya since we all have one on our doors. Here, you can paint 'em however ya like, even put 'em on your door any way ya want. An' if ya do it like a column type thing, I reckon I can make ya one for your middle name, too."

Bud was handed wooden letters that spelled out _Tyler. _He looked from the letters in his hands to Ellison, blinking in shock. Bud hugged him tightly, silently thanking him. He'd never had someone make him something like that before.

"Like it?" Bud nodded swiftly. "Good. We'll paint 'em t'morrow. I've gotta find the paint n the paintbrushes. Gives ya somethin' t' do n it don't involve talkin', so that voice of yours can come back."

Bud smiled and let out an amused huff, closing his eyes as Ellison carded his fingers through his thick honey-brown hair.

"I'll even help if ya want me to. I've got nothing t' do t'morrow. It's my day off."

Bud nodded slightly, looking up at Ellison.

"Thank you," he forced out with a wince.

"You're welcome, son."

—

Bud sipped his ice water, glancing at Ellison, who set a can filled with paintbrushes down in front of him. He'd already found the paint, and now that he'd managed to locate the paintbrushes, they could paint the five wooden letters Bud had.

"Favorite color?"

"Red."

"Wanna use that as your base color for the first one?"

"Sure."

"Quit talkin'! You have your phone right there! Just type what ya wanna say," Ellison chided lightly, laughing while he did so. Bud breathed a laugh. "We want ya t' get your voice back, not make it worse."

He shrugged innocently and grabbed a brush.

"Which one ya want?"

Bud grabbed his phone, typing a single letter: _R._

Ellison passed him the one carved into an _R, _mumbling to himself as he opened the red paint.

"Here ya go."

—

**_May 2017_**

"_Ouch! _What'd ya pinch me for, ya idi—Tolbert!"

Bud threw his arms around his older brother, clinging to him.

"Oh my God, 's been forever!"

"I know, kiddo. Poppy's been makin' me work more n more. It's hard t' get away t' see ya," Tolbert explained, hugging his baby brother tightly. "God, I love you, kid."

"I love you too." Bud stepped back, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts. "What're ya doin' here?"

"Runnin' errands."

"Really?"

"Mhm. In complete honesty, I just wanted t' get outta the house for a while. South Williamson seems like a good place t' go, right?"

"Sure," Bud laughed. "Ya can say that."

"_Tyler! _Tyler, honey, let's go!"

"Leave the boy alone, Sarah. He's with Tolbert. Ten minutes, ya hear me?" Ellison shot him a look.

"Yeah, Daddy, I hear ya," Bud answered. Turning back to Tolbert, he said, "Anyways, how's ev'rybody doin'?"

"They're doin' just fine. I think Pharmer n Cal are startin' t' go insane 'cause you ain't there t' talk with 'em anymore, but they're tryin' t' hide it. Poppy's still mad as Devil."

"When ain't he mad as Devil?" Bud rolled his eyes.

"Good point. How's ev'rybody on your side of the river?"

"A'ight. Cotton's been sleepin' with me a lot here lately. Don't know if it's bad dreams or he jus' don't wanna be alone or what, but I don't mind it. In a way, it's kinda like when I used t' stay with you."

Tolbert hummed, gently smacking Bud's arm.

"Ya best head on out, kid. I love ya."

"I love ya too."

—

Bud woke up with a tight feeling in his chest. He whined and sat up, clawing at the fabric of his shirt and trying to get it away from his neck, managing to draw in a shallow breath. _Why couldn't he breathe?_

His throat closed up as he sobbed, still clawing at his shirt. He was going to die, he knew he was. There was no other explanation for what was happening other than Bud was dying.

The door opened and the light flicked on, Ellison rushing to the bed and sitting on the edge of it, pulling Bud into a hug.

"Breathe, Tyler, breathe!"

"I — I can't, Daddy! I can't breathe!" Bud sobbed, trying to get out of his embrace. "L-let go! I can't — I can't br-br—eathe!"

"Yeah, ya can. Easy, easy, don't fight. Gimme your hand," Ellison spoke softly. Bud did as he was told, tears rushing down his face. Ellison places Bud's hand to his chest. "Just do what I do, son."

Ellison inhaled deeply, holding it until Bud copied the motion. He then exhaled, again holding it until Bud did the same. They kept repeating the motions for a moment or two, just until Bud caught his breath and took in a deep gulp of air without repeating what Ellison did.

He threw his arms around Ellison and whimpered, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

"Easy, Ty. You're okay," Ellison murmured. "Just breathe, honey."

Bud swallowed past the lump in his throat, still taking deep gulps of air, his lungs burning. Ellison gently rubbed his back, letting the boy calm down.

"You okay now, Tyler?" Ellison murmured, looking down at him.

"Mhm," Bud hummed, deciding not to move yet. "Thank ya."

"No problem... Ya wanna tell me why ya never told me ya had those?"

"Too embarrassed," he admitted, his voice barely a murmur. "I'm ashamed of 'em."

"Nothin' t' be ashamed of, Tyler. Panic attacks happen. Lots of people have 'em, son. Don't ever be too embarrassed t' tell me anything. I won't laugh at ya if it's somethin' like that."

"'M sorry, Daddy," he muttered, his voice trembling terribly.

"It's okay. Yer okay. There's nothin' wrong with havin' a panic attack."

"Will y' stay in here, please?" Bud asked meekly. "I don't wanna be alone."

"Yeah, son. I'll stay in here."

Bud scooted over, watching Ellison as he got up and turned the light off, closing the door before he made his way back to the bed. He got in it and let Bud snuggle up against him, pulling his fingers through Bud's hair. He had a feeling Bud hadn't fully calmed down and didn't trust himself to be alone in case it happened again.

"Thank you, Daddy."

"You're welcome, Ty."

Ellison never called him Bud or Buddy anymore. It was always Tyler, Ty, or some pet name like son and honey. Bud didn't mind it; it made him feel like he was really part of Ellison's family, like Ellison had truly accepted him as his son. He knew that was ridiculous, but he didn't stop himself from thinking it.

Bud didn't say the word _Poppy _anymore. It brought back too many painful memories, so he switched to what the Hatfields called their fathers — Daddy. He didn't mind that either. It rolled off his tongue as easily as Poppy had, and he loved his new father more than anything.

—

**_August 2018_**

"Daddy! Daddy, look, Bud won that game over there!"

Bud laughed as he sat down beside Ellison, who ruffled his hair.

"Good for you, kiddo. What'd ya get?"

Bud pointed to the stuffed animal Cotton held to his chest. He wasn't sure what it was, as it wasn't a panda or a teddy bear, but was grey and didn't really have any distinguishing features. It didn't really matter what it was — Cotton loved it even if he didn't know what it was supposed to be.

"I take it as you won that for him, Buddy?"

Bud yelped and whirled around, coming face to face with Anse, who was crouched down to Bud's right.

"Yeah, I won it for 'im. Good Lord, what is it with you n Cap sneakin' up on me like that?"

"I didn't mean to," Anse chuckled. "What'd ya win it for him for?"

"He wanted it," Bud shrugged lightly. "Ain't nothin' t' win a bottle toss."

"Ya got a good heart, _Tyler._"

Bud rolled his eyes at the emphasis of his name, knowing the Anse was just teasing him. Anse was constantly switching between calling him Bud and Tyler, and it usually made Bud's head spin.

"You ain't as cold as ya act like ya are, _Anderson,_" Bud retaliated.

"You're real funny, ya know that?"

"I try my best."

Anse shot him an unamused look while Ellison laughed at the playful banter. Bud never thought he'd be playfully fighting with _Devil Anse Hatfield, _who also happened to be his uncle now.

He didn't think he'd ever speak to any of them, as he'd always been told the Hatfields were horrible people, but he found that he liked them. They weren't bad people at all once you got to know them; they were normal people, just like the McCoys were. Bud hadn't heard one word spoken about the McCoys in a bad way, save for when Ran'l and Sally signed their rights over, but that was the only time the Hatfields ever spoke ill of the McCoys.

"What is that thing anyway?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

—

Bud stood with Tolbert, his eyes flicking around. He'd found out that Pharmer had been hanging around Perry Cline and Frank Phillips a lot recently, and Bud knew just how much they hated the Hatfields. It made him worry that they'd end up turning his brother against him.

His eyes landed on Ellison and Pharmer. Pharmer appeared to be angry while Ellison had stopped paying attention to him. Ellison wasn't going to fight with him.

"But I mean, it's not the best movie in the series, ya know? Pirates of the Caribbean is a good movie series, though, if ya want somethin' good t' watch. What're you lookin' at?"

"Daddy n Pharmer."

"Why do you call him Daddy?" Tolbert queried, taking a sip of his water.

"Don't really say Poppy much anymore. I just call him what Elli calls him."

Ellison wasn't paying attention to Pharmer anymore and had instead focused on a conversation with Elias. Neither one of them saw Pharmer pull his gun.

"Oh... I understand. If I was in your situation, I wouldn't say Poppy either."

Fear seized Bud's heart as he took off in a sprint. If he didn't get there in time, that would kill Ellison, and he just _couldn't _lose Ellison. Bud jumped right as the gun went off, crying out as he landed in a heap on the ground, pressing his palm against the crimson spot on his white shirt.

"_Tyler!_"

Ellison was down beside him in less than three seconds, holding the boy up.

"Oh God, Tyler," he mumbled, pulling Bud's shirt off of him. "Hold still, we gotta put pressure on it."

Bud bit back a scream after Ellison pressed the wadded shirt against the wound, Bud's left hand clenching the fabric of Ellison's shirt.

"What'd you do that for?" Ellison demanded, keeping his voice low.

"It woulda — it woulda killed you. Had t' stop it. Oh God, Daddy, it hurts," he whimpered, his chest heaving with deep breaths.

"Bud! Oh God, honey, what'd ya do a fool thing like that for?!" Tolbert was on his knees beside him after he fought through the crowd that had surrounded them.

"He... woulda killed 'im. I can't lose him, Tol."

"Here, Tolbert, hold this. I'm gonna go call 911."

Tolbert nodded hurriedly, holding the shirt to the wound and letting Bud lean against him as Ellison got up and hurried toward Sarah.

"Oh God, it burns," Bud mumbled breathlessly, shifting as he tried to relieve some of the pain. "It burns a lot, Tol."

"I know, baby. It's a gunshot wound, it's gonna burn."

While the bullet hadn't torn through, it had hit the spot right between Bud's chest and stomach. Tolbert was almost certain there was nothing vital there, so he wasn't too worried about that. He was mostly worried about the bleeding.

"Bud, ya've gotta tell me who did it," Tolbert whispered.

Bud put his head on Tolbert's shoulder, licking his lips.

"Pharmer," he murmured lowly so only Tolbert could hear. He drew in a sharp gasp when Tolbert pressed the shirt harder. "Stop! Stop, it hurts!"

"We gotta stop the bleedin', honey. Just... just hang in there, alright?"

Bud nodded and swallowed thickly, his eyes shifting to his right when he heard Ellison.

"Good Lord, y'all back up n give him room t' breathe!" Ellison knelt down beside him again, carefully pressing the shirt to the wound. "Here, I'll put pressure on it. You just hold him."

Tolbert nodded and moved his hand, holding his baby brother.

"Bud, honey, ya gotta stay awake."

"Tyler, hey, talk t' me, son," Ellison gently tapped his cheek with his free hand.

"Really hurts, Daddy."

"I know it does. Just talk to me, okay? Don't go to sleep."

"Real sorry. 'M causin' trouble 'gain."

"You're doin' no such thing. Reckon I should thank ya for savin' my life like that. Thank you."

"Y' welcome. _Oh, _it really hurts."

"I know, just hang on a minute. We got an ambulance comin'."

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Love you."

"Love you too."

—

Tolbert sat in the waiting room, his head hung low. Pharmer had shot Bud and he'd been arrested for it. As it turned out, there were plenty of witnesses who saw it happen and had witnessed the argument beforehand.

Pharmer had intended to kill Ellison and had hit Bud instead.

Tolbert solely blamed the company Pharmer had been keeping. If it hadn't been for Perry Cline and Frank Phillips, Pharmer wouldn't have tried to start a fight with Ellison, who "belonged to a group of cold-blooded murderers".

If Tolbert was to judge by the way Ellison was sleeping with his head against the wall in the corner of the room, the man was anything but a cold-blooded murderer. It was nearing midnight now and Ellison had fought to stay awake, but had ultimately lost the battle around ten minutes ago, right after receiving the update that Bud was okay.

Most of Tolbert's day had been spent with Ellison. He'd watched the man care for Bud, watched him shed tears as soon as they'd taken him in the ambulance, and he'd watched him interact with the rest of his family. He'd watched Ellison convince Sarah that she needed to take Cotton home, that it would be best if she took him home and kept him there until he called her and knew what was going on with Bud.

Ellison had paced the floor, had talked with Tolbert and moved seats several times while they waited to hear something about Bud, who — as it turned out — had been sleeping on and off all day, as it didn't take much of the anesthesia to knock him out. They'd tried keeping him awake for more than two minutes and it hadn't worked.

"He's just gonna have t' sleep it off," the doctor had said.

"Mm... what time is it?" Ellison mumbled groggily, rubbing at his eyes.

"Midnight," Tolbert responded hoarsely. "You can go back t' sleep if you want to. I'm not gonna be sleepin' tonight anyways."

"No, it's alright. I'll be fine." There was a beat of silence. "You know you're his favorite?"

"McCoy?"

"No. Favorite brother."

"He's always been the reckless one," Tolbert forced a small laugh. "Never cares what harm comes t' him as long as he's sure everyone else is safe. Sometimes I think his heart is too good. Bud's never been one to care about somethin' as trivial as a last name, had never seen the point of the trouble 'tween our families. I think it's mostly fueled by Perry Cline n Frank Phillips. Them two idiots got t' hangin' 'round Pharmer n look what happened."

"Speakin' of Pharmer, what happened to him?"

"They arrested him. Not sure what they're chargin' him with, but Bud won't be very happy when he finds out. I don't think he realized a lot of people watched it happen an' they knew who did it, no matter how quietly he told me who it was."

"He's a good kid. He didn't deserve any of that."

"He needs someone like you," Tolbert said quickly. "Someone who understands him. Ya understand him better than Poppy ever did. He's so comfortable around you... if I didn't know no better, I'd swear he was really yours. Bud depends on you. He won't admit it, but he does. He found him a good family."

"He needs someone like you too, Tolbert. He loves ya an awful lot."

"Nah. It's the other way around with that one. I'm the one who needs him."

"The good thing is that he's gonna be alright. The bad thing is that we're gonna have t' figure out how t' get him home without hurtin' him too much."

—

Two days later, Bud was sent home.

He'd let Ellison carry him up to his room, whining when his father placed him on the bed. Ellison moved to shut the door, Bud catching his wrist.

"No, don't shut it," he mumbled. "I like it open."

Ellison had no doubt it had something to do with him coming home from the hospital.

"Alright. Why ya want it open?"

"I like seein' the sign thing."

"The sign thing? Your name?" Ellison's brows furrowed, pointing to the letters that had been hung diagonally on the door.

"Uh-huh. I know I'm home when I see it."

"Oh... oh, honey," Ellison mumbled. "Well, ya want somethin' t' drink? I'll go getcha whatever ya want."

"Something cold?" he requested. "Please?"

"Sure thing, Tyler. I'll be right back."

—

Later that evening, Tolbert showed up. Ellison led him upstairs to Bud's room, pushing the door open and finding the boy awake, staring at the ceiling.

"Tolbert's here," Ellison announced as he stepped out of Tolbert's way.

Bud looked over at him and beamed a smile as Ellison left the room, leaving him alone with his older brother.

"Tol!"

"Hey, baby. How ya feelin'?"

"Lousy. I can't do nothin'!"

"I know. But the more ya rest, the quicker you'll heal. What've ya done t'day?"

"Sleep... drink cold stuff... ate some soup 'cause Sarah made me. Oh, ya ain't see my sign!"

"What sign?"

"The one on my door. Daddy made it for me n he helped me paint it, too."

Tolbert turned his head toward the door, finding _TYLER _spelled out diagonally, each letter a different color with a different pattern painted on it.

"Impressive. When'd ya do that?"

"February when I had strep. He said it gave me somethin' t' do n didn't involve talking, so..."

"In other words, you'd talked so much he couldn't understand a word you were sayin'."

"Mhm."

"Thought so," Tolbert chuckled. "Ya do that every time ya get strep and I don't understand why."

Bud shrugged innocently.

"Don't ya call Sarah Mama?"

"No," Bud shook his head. "She's never said I could, so I don't. I call her Sarah n Sarah Ann. She don't seem t' mind it too much."

"Oh," Tolbert muttered to himself. "I reckon that makes sense."

"It's just... weird, ya know? Daddy gladly took me in an' he's helped me so much since I first got disowned... He don't know how much I appreciate him. He's let me change my name n he adopted me, let me get a new start. The only thing I really miss 'bout Kentucky is hangin' out with you."

"Well, we're gonna figure out a way t' fix that. I miss hangin' out with ya, kiddo. Life's not very fun without you, but I'm survivin'. I can still talk t' you, I can come see ya whenever I can get away, but it ain't right that I've gotta sneak around t' see ya. You're my baby brother, I should be able t' see ya anytime I want."

"Yeah... but then I wouldn't be able t' talk t' Elli, or Cap, or Johnse, or Wall, 'Lias, Anse, Daddy... Miss Levicy. Miss Levicy's real nice. So's Sarah. Even Crazy Jim's purdy nice, Tol. They ain't at all what Poppy said they were."

When Bud talked about the McCoys with Tolbert, Ran'l and Sally were still referred to as Poppy and Mama. When he talked about them with anyone in his new family, they were Randall and Sally.

"Well, I reckon that's on Poppy if he don't know 'em like he says he does. Ya want me t' leave ya alone so you can sleep?"

"No!" Bud said quickly. His face flushed red. "N-no, please don't leave. Watch a movie with me or somethin', _please. _I wanna hang out with ya a while."

"A'ight, Buddy. We'll watch a movie or two."

"Thank you," Bud whispered as Tolbert rounded the bed and got on the other side.

Bud slowly turned onto his side, releasing a pained breath before he placed his head on Tolbert's chest and wrapped his arms around Tolbert's middle. Tolbert carefully wrapped an arm around Bud, turning on the TV.

"So, what do ya wanna watch?"

"Don't matter t' me."

—

Ellison was starting to get a little concerned.

He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Tolbert or Bud for the last four hours. While he had told Bud to stay in bed, he knew it was highly unlikely the boy would listen to him. Bud had the tendency to go stir crazy if he didn't.

So he made his way up the stairs, mumbling to himself all the while. He tried to tell himself that there was no reason to really worry; that neither boy could get themselves into trouble.

Ellison stopped in the doorway to Bud's room, spotting Tolbert and Bud sleeping. He gave a quiet chuckle and pulled the door shut, deciding to let them sleep.


	16. Catch Me, I'm Falling (Modern AU)

**_March 2014_**

Bud couldn't breathe. That was the first thing he noticed when he woke up. Bud sat up, tugging at the collar of his shirt, whining as he struggled to take in a breath. Bud _couldn't breathe._

He whimpered as a single tear raced down his pale face and grimaced at the feeling in his chest. It felt like someone had taken hold of his lungs and was squeezing them as hard as they possibly could, preventing the twelve-year-old boy from drawing in a proper breath.

He kept tugging at his shirt, his eyes flicking toward the door when it opened.

"Bud? Honey, are you — oh God."

Tolbert hurried over to him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Hey, you hear me?" Bud nodded mutely. "I'm gonna hug you, alright?"

Again, he nodded. Tolbert pulled him into an embrace, ignoring the way Bud started to fight him.

"S-stop! L-let go! I can't br—eathe!" he forced out.

"Hey, hey, stop fighting. Stop, you're okay. You're gonna be just fine once ya calm down a little, honey. Here, let me have your hand. We'll try somethin', alright?"

"Uh-huh," Bud breathed, nodding slightly.

"Do what I do."

Tolbert took a deep breath, holding it until Bud managed to get a breath. He exhaled, holding that until Bud did the same. He repeated the same motions for a moment or two, Bud slumping in relief when he caught his breath, taking deep gulps of air and coughing.

Tolbert could tell he still hadn't fully calmed down, but he held him, not saying a word when Bud shifted to where he could easily place his head on Tolbert's chest.

He listened to the steady rhythm of Tolbert's heart, his arms slowly wrapping around Tolbert's middle. His eyes closed as he started to calm down. He focused on his breathing and the sound of Tolbert's heartbeat, silently assuring himself that everything was okay.

Tolbert held him and rubbed his back. He knew Bud could calm himself down now that he'd caught his breath and wasn't taking short, shallow breaths that didn't do him any good. He understood how it felt, he understood how frightening it could be to wake up like that. He knew Bud had to wake up with it because he'd been sleeping the last time Tolbert had checked on him.

"Tolbert..."

"Hm?" he hummed, looking down at Bud.

"What was that?" Bud peered up at him, hazel eyes shining with fear and uncertainty.

"A panic attack. It's alright, though. You're okay, baby, you're okay."

"Why 'm I havin' 'em?" Bud mumbled groggily, nuzzling against his older brother's chest.

"I don't know, baby. Ya wanna get some sleep now?"

"Mhm," he gave a slow nod, blinking owlishly as he moved. "Will ya stay in here, please? In case it happens again."

"Yeah, darlin'. I'll stay in here wit'cha."

"Thank you."

"Think nothin' of it."

—

A few days later, Bud had asked Tolbert to take him to his doctor's appointment. He hadn't thought it would be any different from the last few times he'd gone; he really didn't feel any different.

But when he'd accidentally slipped up and mentioned the panic attack, it had led to questions that Bud didn't want to answer. Questions about his thoughts and emotions. He'd answered them truthfully, knowing there wouldn't be any sense in lying to Doc Rutherford when the man would get it out of him eventually.

And after Bud had confessed to the random bouts of anger and irritability, the thoughts of death and killing himself, crying for hours in his room for no reason at all, and nearly harming himself, Doc had diagnosed him with depression. Bud had sobbed then and there, forgetting about his pride and just _breaking _for the first time in a long while.

"Hey, I know it's daunting to you. You're young, Bud, it's gonna scare ya. But we can make it a little better, okay? The medicine won't completely stop it, but it's gonna help ya with it. The medicine is all trial and error — to see what works with you and what doesn't. Give each one a week or two, enough time to get in your system and work its magic. I want ya t' look at me, Bud."

Bud lifted his gaze, sniffling.

"Depression won't change a thing about you. You're a good kid. You don't have to tell everybody so long as you tell one adult you trust and I know who it is. I've got to make sure someone knows so they can get your prescription for you."

"Tolbert," Bud mumbled. "I'll tell Tolbert."

"Alright. Whaddaya say we hope the first one works for ya, hm? If the first one works, there won't be a trial and error."

Bud nodded silently, hanging his head and wiping at his face.

"So... so what's it do? I mean... how did I get it?"

"Depression is a mental illness. It's a genuine illness, Bud, there's no way to just "get it". Sometimes it's somethin' that's hereditary. Other times it's nothin' more than a chemical imbalance in your brain. Then there's times there's a genuine reason for the chemical imbalance to occur — something traumatic, you know? People with PTSD usually have depression, too. A lot of people have depression, Bud. They're just good at hiding it."

"Excuse me, Doc. Ellison Hatfield's here t' speak with ya," a nurse informed Doc, who turned toward her.

"Oh. Bud, you mind if I talk t' him in here?"

"Not at all," Bud forced a small smile.

_Depression. _Bud had depression. He supposed that a lot of things made sense now that he knew that, but it didn't make him any happier about it. That explained the days he wanted to do nothing more but stay in bed, the days he had to convince himself he needed to shower, the days he had to force himself to eat something. It explained a lot of things about him.

He blinked when he noticed someone had bent down in front of him.

"You okay, kid?"

"Fine," Bud chuckled breathlessly. "I was just thinkin'."

The man hummed and nodded slightly before standing. He was tall and muscular with reddish-brown hair and dark brown eyes. He looked vaguely familiar and Bud couldn't figure out why the man looked familiar to him. He was certain he would remember someone that looked like the big friendly giant.

"I'm Ellison," the man introduced himself.

"Bud."

"Ya seem a little down, kid. Don't let whatever he said get to ya. He's good at makin' people sad."

Bud spluttered a laugh, not able to stop it before it passed through his lips.

"You one of Randall McCoy's children?"

"Yes, sir," Bud nodded. "I'm his youngest son."

"Oh, so you're Little Randall then," Ellison mused, watching the boy nod slightly.

"Yes, sir."

"Ya don't have t' call me sir. I'm not that old yet, Little Randall," Ellison jested. "Jus' call me Ellison."

"A'ight, Ellison. You can call me Bud if ya wanna. Ev'ryone else does."

"Mighty nice of ya. Ya don't really know me."

"Ya don't know me either."

"But I can tell you're a good kid. I've been told I'm a pretty good judge of character, Bud, and _you _gave a good impression. Ya have anybody here with ya or are ya alone?"

"My brother's in the waitin' room. I told him it'd be fine 'cause it wouldn't be any diff'rent from last time, but... but it's real diff'rent, Ellison. I don't wanna tell him that."

"Why not?"

"Scared he'll think diff'rent of me n won't wanna be around me no more. I ain't really got a choice in the matter, though, so 'm gonna tell him no matter how much I don't want to."

"You trust him?"

"Yeah," Bud answered without hesitation.

"Give him the benefit of the doubt. I doubt he's gonna think different of ya or stop wantin' t' be around ya. Ya seem like a good kid, Bud. Don't let what Doc said get to ya."

"I'll try." Bud paused, his eyes scanning the man's face again. Then it clicked. "You're Devil Anse's brother."

"Oh, you know him?" Ellison laughed.

"N-no. I've just... I know who he is. I don't know him, though. His reputation precedes him," Bud muttered sheepishly, his face reddening.

"You referrin' to the wildcat story?"

"No."

"Oh, well, either way, that ain't nothin' but a bunch of lies. Anse ain't ever wrestled no wildcat. Mighta killed a few for gettin' near his livestock with the intent t' eat it, but he ain't ever wrestled one. If he'd wrestled a wildcat and lived t' tell it, he likely wouldn't be able t' walk and he certainly wouldn't keep such an accomplishment to himself."

"He raises animals?"

"Yeah. He's got a few horses, some chickens, maybe a hog or two. Apparently, he likes raisin' livestock," Ellison shrugged. "The man's hard t' figure out, Bud. I've known him thirty-five years and he still surprises me every now n again."

Bud couldn't help but laugh.

"What about you? Any livestock where you live?"

"Jus' a few horses," Bud shrugged lightly. "I've got one named Midnight."

"Oh, do ya?"

"Mhm," he hummed. "Ya like huntin'?"

"I go huntin' every now n again," Ellison nodded. "I have t' admit I prefer fishin' t' huntin'. At least I know I'm gonna live if I get a hook stuck in me. Usually happens 'round the brows or the lip, for whatever reason there is. How 'bout you?"

"I like 'em both. I like gettin' away from everybody for a few hours n jus' bein' on my own. Don't ever go back empty-handed, though. Sometimes, after I catch a fish or I get somethin' while huntin', I just roam a while t' be on my own a little longer. I don't know, maybe I shouldn't feel that way, but I do. I like bein' away from ev'rybody."

"Nothin' wrong with wantin' t' be on your own for a while. Ev'rybody needs t' get away from ev'ryone — including their own family — at some point. There ain't a thing wrong with goin' out in the woods on your own for a while, Bud."

"Here ya are, Ellison. It took a while t' print, but I got ya the records ya need," Doc spoke as he entered the room again.

"A'ight. Thank ya, Doc. Nice meetin' you, Bud."

"Nice meetin' you," Bud smiled softly. Once Ellison left the room, he looked at Doc. "So... can I go now?"

—

Bud sighed as he got in Tolbert's truck, biting down on his lip. Tolbert hadn't so much as glanced at the slip of paper he'd handed him, only saying that Doc gave him a prescription they had to get filled.

"You're awful quiet," Tolbert remarked, starting the engine. "Usually by now, ya've asked if we can stop somewhere n eat."

"I'm not very hungry," he fibbed, shifting slightly. "Tolbert... I need t' tell ya somethin' before ya really look at that slip."

"Mkay, what is it?" Tolbert's ice-blue eyes flicked over at Bud for a split second before focusing on the road again.

"I got diagnosed with depression."

Tolbert slammed on the brakes, barely missing a stray cat that scurried across the road. The sudden stop caused Bud to lurch forward, his hands slapping against the dashboard to catch himself.

"You what?" Tolbert asked softly, turning his head toward him.

"I got diagnosed with depression," he repeated, his eyes meeting Tolbert's. "I don't... I wouldn't've even told ya if I didn't tell Doc I would. Said the medicine's gonna be trial n error 'til he finds one that works with me."

"Oh, honey," Tolbert breathed, blinking while he gazed at him. He shook his head and focused on the road again, pressing the gas pedal.

"It's okay if ya don't wanna be around me anymore," Bud said swiftly, averting his gaze. "I'd understand it."

"What makes ya think I don't wanna be 'round ya, Buddy?"

"I dunno. Ain't no good anymore," he scoffed, forcing his tears back.

"Hey, you are _plenty _of good," Tolbert snapped. "Quit talkin' 'bout yourself like that. How'd ya get diagnosed with that, kiddo?"

"I slipped up. Told him 'bout the panic attack n he asked a bunch of questions. He said I have depression. I didn't even mean t' mention that dumb panic attack. I did it without thinkin', Tol."

"What kinda stuff did he ask?"

"If I get real irritated and mad at random times, if I've ever thought about death and/or killing myself, if I cry a lot, if I've ever self-harmed. I answered 'em all."

"That right? Ya wanna tell me how ya answered at least two of those?"

He could hear the concern that Tolbert tried to hide. Bud exhaled deeply through his nostrils, shifting in his seat.

"_Yes, _I get really angry n irritated at random times, sometimes for no reason at all. _Yes, _I've thought about death and killin' myself. I've wondered what it feels like t' die. _Yes, _I cry a lot. I cry in my room for hours for no reason and it just... I don't understand why. _No, _I've never self-harmed, but I came real close to it the other night. I caught myself before I did it. I threw the knife back in the sink and ran straight t' my room. I cried 'til my eyes burned, Tol. I scared myself."

"My God, why did ya never tell me 'bout any of that?"

"I just... I didn't want ya thinkin' no diff'rent of me. I was okay, I still am. I don't need stupid pills for it."

"Bud..." he trailed off, trying to figure out a way to say what he wanted to without coming off as too harsh. "Bud, ya can't go in this with that attitude. The pills ain't gonna fully fix it, you're still gonna have rough days, baby, but it's gonna help. It's gonna help with the thoughts an' the way ya almost hurt yourself. I don't want ya hurtin' yourself, Buddy."

"I didn't hurt myself!" Bud exclaimed.

"But ya came pretty dang close," Tolbert countered, keeping his voice soft. "What're ya gonna do if ya actually end up hurtin' yourself or ya decide ya really do wanna find out what it feels like t' die, hm? It's okay t' need help, Bud. Life's hard, I know it is. Sometimes it throws a curveball at ya, but that don't mean ya gotta let it knock ya down. There's nothin' wrong with needin' medicine."

"Reckon ya got a point," Bud murmured.

"I know this isn't what ya wanted. No one ever wants depression, Bud. It's a hard battle and sometimes it feels like you're never gonna win it. Sometimes it feels like you're drowning, but ya always get back up, right? Even on days when ya don't wanna do anythin' but sleep or just stay in bed, ya get up. And it's gonna be okay, baby. You've got me in your corner. I've always got your back."

"Promise?" Bud looked over at him.

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded, grasping his little brother's hand. "I promise."

—

**_November 2017_**

Bud sighed as he entered Tolbert's home, finding his older brother in the kitchen and undeniably drunk. Bud suppressed a grimace. He hated it when Tolbert was drunk. His brother was already hot-headed, but he seemed even worse when he was under the influence of alcohol.

Bud had to give him credit, though. Tolbert hardly ever drank, and when he did, it was always when he was at home.

"Hey, Tolbert," Bud greeted casually, grabbing a Sprite out of the fridge. "You okay?"

"Fine, kiddo," Tolbert waved him off. "What're ya doin' here?"

"It's Friday. I'm always here on Friday," Bud responded, brows furrowing. "My God, how drunk are you?"

"I'm not drunk," he snapped harshly.

"Tolbert," Bud shot him a look, "I know when you're drunk and when you're sober. You're _drunk._"

"I'm not drunk, Bud."

Bud set his Sprite on the kitchen island and walked over to Tolbert, grabbing hold of his face, forcing him to look at him. He could tell just by looking at Tolbert that he was drunk.

"Tolbert, you're drunk. I can tell jus' by lookin' at ya that you're drunk."

"Fine, whatever. I'm drunk," Tolbert grumbled.

"Why're ya drinkin' s' much?"

"'Cause I want to?"

"Ya don't sound very sure of that. What's goin' on, Tolbert? It's not like you t' get drunk when you know I'm comin' over."

"Nothin's goin' on, a'ight? Maybe I jus' forgot you were comin' over."

"I come over every Friday. What made ya think I wouldn't be here t'day?"

"I dunno," Tolbert shook his head. "I'm just... it's not a good time t' be here, a'ight? Go home."

"Tolbert," Bud shot him a nasty look. "I'm not goin' home. Despite what ya seem t' think, I can handle you bein' drunk. Even if ya are a pain."

He walked back to the island, grabbing his drink before sitting down on one of the barstools. He heard Tolbert mumble something under his breath.

"You say somethin'?" he asked innocently.

"You _never _listen. Why do ya never listen?" Tolbert responded, clearly irritated.

"It's not that I never listen—"

"Yes, it is! You never listen t' me or anyone else, Bud. No wonder no one wants t' be around you."

A sharp sting appeared in Bud's chest as his heart sunk.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"No one wants ta be around you, an' I can't say I blame 'em! My _God, _you're so annoying! Every dagon time I get a little drunk, you somehow manage t' show up. How do ya manage that? It's like you _know _when ya can get on my nerves and ya show up t' do it. God, I hate you."

"Stop it! Ya don't mean none of that!" Bud commanded shakily, staring at his older brother.

"If I didn't, I wouldn't say it. _I hate you. _I hate ya more than anyone else, Bud. Ya've been nothin' but a burden for sixteen years. Everythin's always about you, no one else. Yer a burden, Bud, that's what ya are!"

"If ya really hate me n think so dagon low of me, why didn't ya say somethin'? I wouldn't've bothered ya."

"Oh, really? I jus' told ya an' you're still here!"

"Because I'm tryin' t' figure out why the heck ya lied t' me for so long!" Bud all but screamed. "Ya told me ya'd always be there for me, that I wasn't a burden, that ya always had my dagon back! What happened t' that, Tolbert?! Have ya just lied t' me all these years?!"

"Maybe that was before I realized I hate ya, Bud! Ever think of that?"

"You're unbelievable," Bud shook his head, sniffing as he forced back unwanted tears. "Despicable might describe you better."

"No wonder Mama n Poppy ain't proud of you. All ya do is sit around n try t' think up insults after ya start a fight. They're not proud of ya, Bud. Heck, I'm not even proud of ya! What's there t' be proud of?"

"Absolutely nothing," Bud responded harshly. "I hate you. I do, I hate you! Can't say I hate ya more than anyone else, there's still someone that's got ya beat on that, but I _hate _you. I hate you so much I wish you'd die!"

Tolbert got up and moved to the island, his brows raised as he stared at Bud. Bud watched him curiously, wondering what he was up to. He stopped in front of Bud and slapped him as hard as he could, knocking him off of the barstool he'd been sitting on.

"Get out," he growled. "I don't care what happens t' you, it makes no difference t' me! Just _get out._"

Bud stood and ran out of the kitchen, wrenching the front door open and slamming it behind him. Oh God, what had he done?

—

Bud shut off the engine and opened the door to his SUV, getting out and closing it as he sniffled. He walked up to the front door and knocked, waiting impatiently.

"Bud? What the heck are you doin' out?" Jim demanded.

"I... I just..." he stammered, trying to figure out how to word it. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't've bothered you. Just... forget I was here, I'm so sorry."

Bud turned and took off before Jim even had time to blink.

"Wha—_Bud! _Hey, Bud, where ya goin'?! _BUD!_" Jim called after him.

Bud ignored him, getting back in his vehicle and swiftly starting the engine. He buckled his seatbelt before throwing it in reverse.

He never should've gone to Jim. But Jim had always been the one he went to up until he figured out no one wanted to be around him. Bud had really acted out of instinct instead of thinking it through. He never should have gone to Jim. Jim probably thought the same way Tolbert did, so why should he even try? He couldn't make his case to someone who felt the same way Tolbert did.

Bud's vision blurred as he drove down the road, bringing his left hand up and wiping at his eyes. He had one person he trusted; one person who didn't really know any of his family and could tell him plain no matter how he felt on the matter. He'd met him four years ago and he'd grown rather close to him.

The problem was that he didn't want to bother him. Bud didn't mind driving to Mate Creek, but it was the point that he would end up bothering Ellison with his problems if he did go to him. But given the fact Bud only had the choice of either going to Ellison's or going home, he found he'd prefer to be with Ellison. Bud hoped that he wouldn't bother him too much, but he needed somewhere to go and home wasn't an option at that moment.

—

Bud spotted Ellison the second he pulled in the man's driveway. He was sitting on the porch in a rocking chair, and he'd spotted Bud almost instantly. Bud parked his car and got out, hesitantly approaching the porch. How was he supposed to explain this?

"Hey, Buddy. Wanna go inside?"

"Sure," Bud agreed softly, his voice barely audible.

Ellison stood and led him inside, sensing something was wrong. So he led him upstairs to the room across from his, closing the door behind them.

"What's wrong?" Ellison queried, walking over to the bed and sitting down on it.

"I just... I'm sorry for botherin' you, I don't know what I was thinkin'," Bud rambled, shaking his head. "I can — I can go."

"Nonono, come here. Sit down, talk t' me."

Bud hesitantly made his way over to the bed. Ellison had shifted to where his back was against the headboard, so Bud rounded the bed and got on the other side. Bud bit down on his lip, his eyes flicking up and meeting Ellison's.

"I'm sorry for botherin' ya. I just... didn't know where else t' go," he admitted quietly.

"Why? I know you're close t' the two brothers that moved out."

"One of 'em's... he told me some things. I did go t' Jim's house, though. And I left the second he opened the door. I couldn't — I couldn't bother him."

"That's not like you at all. What's wrong?"

"I was told no one wants t' be around me. I can't say I blame 'em, I'm a terrible person, but it still hurts, y'know? I at least thought my own fam'ly didn't mind me comin' 'round 'em, but they do. I was told a lot of things this evenin'," he gave a breathless chuckle.

"What kind of things?" Ellison pressed, knowing if he didn't, Bud would clam up on him.

"I was told I've been a burden for sixteen years. I was told I don't listen t' anyone... an' that I've never made my parents proud. I know that I haven't, but—but it kinda hurts comin' from someone ya know they talk to. Tolbert said he hates me more than anyone else. I told him I hate him, too, but I couldn't say I hate him more than anyone else 'cause that ain't true. And... and I told him I hate him s' much I wish he'd die. He told me t' get out n that he didn't care what happened to me, it made no difference t' him. But it's okay. I'm a terrible person, I deserve everything I get. I just didn't think Tolbert would be the first one in the family t' admit he hates me."

"Bud, ya didn't deserve any of that. An' judgin' what ya've told me about Tolbert, he didn't mean a word of it."

"Yeah, he did," Bud nodded slightly. "I know when he's lyin' and when he's not. He wa'n't lyin' when he said it. I just... I couldn't bother Jim knowin' he don't want t' be around me. I'm sorry, I just — I don't know who else t' talk to at this point. It feels like someone's _ripped_ my heart out of my chest and I just... I can't, Ellison!"

Ellison held the boy as he sobbed, letting him cry into his shoulder.

"I know 'm a terr'ble person. I have been for y-years now. I-I try, I really do, but it don't seem t' do any good."

"You're not terrible. You're not a burden either. I think you're a wonderful kid, Bud. Just... stay here and rest, alright? Maybe it'll be better once ya rest."

—

Jim sighed as he entered Tolbert's home, his heart thundering against his rib cage. He went to the kitchen, finding Tolbert there, drunk, with one hand holding his head up.

"What?" Tolbert mumbled, his eyes flicking in Jim's direction.

"Have you seen Bud?" Jim asked swiftly. He'd already gone to their parents' home — he wasn't there.

"He was here earlier. Why?"

"I can't find him nowhere. He showed up at my house an' just took off after I opened the door. I don't know where he went, he ignored me when I shouted at him. All he said was he was sorry an' just... he took off like the Devil was after him."

"Bud's missing?" Tolbert seemed to sober up then and there. "Oh my God, _oh my God. _It's my fault."

"What do you mean it's your fault? What did you do?"

"I got mad at him. I was drunk, I get mad easy when I'm drunk. He just... oh God, Jim, I told him no one wants t' be around him n that I hate him. I told him Mama n Poppy ain't proud of him, that I ain't proud of him, that when I made the promise t' always have his back, I hadn't realized I hated him. I told him I didn't care what happened to him, that it didn't make a diff'rence to me. I didn't — oh my God, Jim, we gotta find him 'fore he—"

"Calm down," Jim cut him off, placing his hands on Tolbert's shoulders. "We're gonna find him. You know him best, Tolbert. Where would he go if he wasn't with one of us?"

"Uhm, I don't know, I don't—I don't know, Jim!"

"Hey, you've got ta breathe, Tolbert. Calm down a little, think about it. Where would he go?"

Tolbert took a deep breath, hanging his head while he thought about it. Where would Bud go if he wasn't with them? Bud told Tolbert everything, he just needed to take a minute to figure out where Bud would go.

He anxiously chewed on his lower lip, inhaling deeply through his nostrils.

"I'll bet he's on Mate Creek."

"Mate Creek? Why would he be on Mate Creek?"

"That's where Ellison lives."

Jim blinked, wondering how he hadn't thought of that before. He and Tolbert were the only ones who knew Bud had befriended Ellison Hatfield, as their father held a grudge against the Hatfields and didn't like them, so he'd told the two he knew he could trust. They'd promised they wouldn't ever breathe a word about it to anyone.

"C'mon, let's go," Jim gently hit Tolbert's shoulder. "_You _are goin' t' fix this."

—

Tolbert swallowed thickly as he approached the front door, hesitantly knocking on it. It wasn't like he had much of a choice — Jim was right behind him and it was either Tolbert knocked on the door or Jim did it for him.

A woman opened the door.

"I'm sorry t' bother ya, ma'am, but I'm lookin' for my brother. He ran off n we don't know where he went, an'... that SUV there looks like the one he drives," Tolbert tried to explain briefly.

"You must be one of the McCoy boys," she remarked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Upstairs, first door on the left. He's in there with Ellison."

"Thank you," Tolbert murmured, entering and heading upstairs.

He gently rapped on the door with his knuckle, waiting until he heard a soft, "Come in" to open the door. Tolbert pushed the door open, immediately spotting his baby brother curled up against Ellison's side, sleeping with his head on the man's chest.

"You here for him?" Ellison asked.

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded slightly. He could feel Ellison studying him and shifted uncomfortably.

"You're Tolbert, right?"

"...Yes. How'd ya know that?"

"He talks 'bout ya a lot. You're his fav'rite."

"After what I did, I doubt that very much."

"Mm... he told me about that. He told me what he said, too."

"He's always been the honest one," Tolbert breathed a laugh. "Reckon it's 'cause he can't lie t' save his life. He's a good kid, though. Gonna make a fine man once he gets a little older. I don't know if he realizes that, though. Bud's always had low self-esteem."

"I figured that out pretty quick. He's always been that way?"

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded. "He's been that way for a long while now. He started preferring baggy clothes to ones that fit him well when he started goin' t' school. He was five when it started. Kid's smart as can be, but if ya ever say that to him, he'll tell ya he ain't that smart. Bud don't seem t' realize he's smart n there ain't nothin' wrong with the way he looks."

"I do agree he's smart," Ellison chuckled. "He helped me fix that old four-wheeler out back. Took one look at it n told me ev'rythin' that was wrong with it."

"Bud's a smart kid. Smart-aleck, sometimes, but he's one of the best people I know. He's... he didn't deserve what he got from me, I'll tell ya that. I was drunk and he knew it, an' he kept pressin' an' tryin' t' find out _why _I was drinkin' when I knew he was comin' over 'cause I never do that. It's honestly a miracle I remember what I said. I sobered up pretty dang quick when Jim told me he was missin'."

"Want me t' wake him? You can talk with him in here."

"I... yeah, sure, why not?"

Ellison gently shook Bud's shoulder.

"Hey, Buddy. Bud, wake up."

Bud whined and turned his head a little, nuzzling against Ellison's chest.

"No, wake up, Bud. Ya've gotta wake up. Tolbert wants t' talk to ya."

Bud's eyes snapped open, him sitting up and looking at Ellison strangely. He must've heard him wrong. There was no possible way he'd said that Tolbert was there and wanted to talk to him.

"I'll leave ya alone."

Ellison got up and left the room, leaving Bud alone with Tolbert. Bud moved to the side of the bed, placing his feet on the floor before noticing him in the corner. His eyes flicked over to him before flicking down to his lap, not wanting to meet his gaze.

"Bud..."

"Please don't," Bud said quickly. "I-I get it, ya hate me, I'm nothin' but a burden ya don't wanna be around. I'm sorry. I really am, Tol, I didn't — if I woulda known that was how ya felt, I never would've bothered you, I swear I wouldn't've."

"Bud, listen to me, please," Tolbert pleaded with him, crossing the room and bending down in front of him, gently grasping his forearms. Bud gave a silent nod. "I am so sorry, baby. I didn't mean a word of it."

"You're not wrong, though," Bud whispered, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "I am a burden. I couldn't even handle this on my own. I ran off t' Ellison n bothered him. I'm so sorry, Tolbert."

"Hey, there's nothin' you should be sorry for. This is all on me, okay? It's my fault. I am so sorry, baby. I never meant t' hurt ya like that."

"It's okay. Ya don't have t' apologize, it's alright—"

"I _want _t' apologize. I need to apologize t' you. Ya did nothin' wrong, Bud."

"I told ya I hate ya," he countered. "I told ya I hate ya so much I wish you'd die."

"And you had every right to after what I said to ya. You have feelings too, Bud. You're allowed t' get mad n say things ya don't mean. You're allowed t' cry as much as you want, whether ya got a reason for it or not. You're allowed t' feel things. You're allowed t' show what you feel."

Bud allowed his eyes to flick up and meet Tolbert's. Tolbert watched the boy fight against his tears, watched him sniffle and shake his head slightly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean it."

"I know ya didn't. I know when ya mean somethin' an' when ya don't. What I do know is that ya meant it when ya said ya couldn't say ya hated me the most. Who do ya hate the most, baby?"

Bud cast his eyes down, swallowing thickly.

"Me. Myself. I hate myself the most."

"Why?"

"I'm a terrible person, Tol. Ain't ever made no one proud of me, not even Mama or Poppy. I've got somethin' wrong with my head and it... it has so much control over my life. I hate that. I hate that whatever is wrong with my head controls me. I mean... it's so hard t' put it in words so it makes sense, but I can't — I can't _control it. _It's not somethin' I have control over like everyone seems t' think.

"I just — it'll be fine a day or two, maybe even a couple of weeks, and then it's like I get hit by a bus or a train and I just can't even bring myself t' get outta bed in the mornin', or go take a shower, or even eat anything. Poppy gets so m-mad at me when I get like that. He th-thinks 'm jus' bein' lazy, but I ain't. I can't force myself t' move an' I don't know how t' make him understand that. It's not like I _want _to stay in bed all day and cry until I can't anymore. I just do. It's... I have absolutely no control over when it happens or what happens when I do get that way. It's so h-hard to explain it."

"I know it is. How 'bout you come back t' my place n talk to me, huh? Just let it all out, even if it don't make no sense t' you. I'll even let ya in on a secret of mine. No one but Mama n Poppy knows it."

"Okay," Bud agreed, nodding ever so slightly. "I'm sorry for scarin' you."

"Don't be, baby. My God, I never shoulda treated you like that. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Bud forced a small smile. "I shouldn't-a kept on n on with it. I don't know what I was thinkin'."

"It's okay," Tolbert assured him. "Come on, baby. Let's go home."

—

Once they got to Tolbert's place, Bud went straight to his room and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. After doing that, he shuffled back to the living room, sitting down on the couch beside Tolbert.

"Talk to me, Bud."

"I don't even know where t' start," he admitted quietly. "Poppy don't understand."

"What don't Poppy understand?" Tolbert questioned, letting Bud place his head on his shoulder.

"Any of this. He doesn't understand that I can't control it. I have no control over the panic attacks, or the random times I just break down n start cryin', or when I can't even force myself t' get outta bed t' go take a shower or eat. He thinks I make it all up, that I'm jus' tryin' t' get out of doin' work or somethin'. It's _so hard _t' try to explain it t' him 'cause he won't listen t' me. He just... he don't understand, Tolbert, he don't!"

"What d'ya mean he thinks you're makin' it all up?" Tolbert started to play with Bud's hair.

"He thinks I'm just bein' lazy. I can't help it, Tolbert, I really can't! I try t' force myself t' get up n it jus' don't work. I don't know what it is that makes me like that. He — he tells me I'd best get my hide outta that bed if I know what's good fer me, but he don't under-understand that I don't _want _t' be that way. I _hate _bein' that way. I hate layin' in bed an' cryin' all day long. But I don't... there's no way t' tell when it's gonna happen and I hate it so much, Tol. Poppy don't understand that I can't control it."

"Oh, honey," Tolbert breathed, planting a soft kiss on top of Bud's head. "I'm sorry. I can try t' talk to him."

"Won't do no good," Bud sniffled. "No need t' waste yer breath, Tol."

"A'ight. How 'bout you tell me how _you _feel, hm?"

"I'm not sure ya wanna know."

"Why not, baby?"

"My mind's a real dark place, Tol. I'm not sure you wanna know what all I think about. Sometimes I scare myself with it."

"If I didn't wanna know, I wouldn't ask. I want t' help ya, baby. I can't do that if ya don't talk t' me."

"Sure?" Bud glanced at him, his brows furrowed.

"I'm sure. Go on, tell me what yer feelin'."

"Nothin' an' despair and everything bundled in one huge mess, but nothing is what I feel the most. Just — just this _empty pit _in the middle of my chest that won't go away, an' I can't do anythin' about it 'cause I don't know where it came from or why it's there. It's just... it's jus' _there. _It's been there for so long I don't think it can ever be filled. And it just... it feels like I have an elephant sittin' on my chest. I don't know how, or _why, _but it's there, and it's crushing me. Every time I try t' get it off me, it gets heavier and heavier, it makes it harder t' breathe. It just keeps gettin' heavier, Tolbert."

Bud's chest collapsed with a heart-wrenching sob, his hand clutching the fabric of Tolbert's shirt. Tolbert was still trying to process everything he'd been told, and he was trying to figure out a way to respond to it.

"Bud, honey... my God, how long have ya felt like that?"

"A really long time," Bud admitted, his voice trembling. "I just... I didn't wanna bother nobody so I kept it t' myself. I didn't want anyone knowin' what all I think about."

"What d'ya mean by that, Bud?"

"When—when it starts gettin' bad again, when I can literally _feel _the pit in my chest n the elephant on top of it, I just think about death. Diff'rent ways t' die. I swear, Tol, I've got a list a mile long of ways t' die. Sometimes I scare myself with it, 'cause I'll want t' do it. I never do. After I realize I want t' do it, I get so scared. I usually end up goin' t' my room n cryin' 'til I can't anymore."

"Oh, honey. _Call me _when ya do that, Bud. Text me if ya want, I don't care what way ya get ahold of me, but find _some way _t' talk t' me. I don't care if it's three o'clock in the mornin' or if it's six o'clock in the evenin'. Heck, Bud, if ya do it while you're at school, _call me. _I'll come get ya, we'll talk it out. One of these days, they're not gonna scare ya anymore. And that scares me. What are ya gonna do when it don't scare ya no more?"

"I don't know," he mumbled. "I don't wanna bother you though. It's fine, I'm never gonna—"

"Ya don't bother me. Ya could never bother me. I want t' be sure you're safe."

"Okay," Bud whispered softly. "I'll call ya next time. I promise."

—

**_December 2017_**

Tolbert awoke to the sound of his phone ringing. He groaned and threw his arm in the general direction of his nightstand feeling around for his phone. Once he grabbed it, he answered it without looking to see who it was.

"'Ello?" he mumbled groggily, barely awake.

"Did I wake ya? I'm so sorry," Bud blurted. "I'll just — I'll just go. I'm sorry."

"Bud? Darlin', you a'ight?"

"Y-yeah. I'm fine, Tol. I'm sorry for botherin' you."

"Nononono, don't you hang up! You wouldn't call if somethin' wasn't wrong."

"I'm real sorry for wakin' ya."

"Don't worry about that, darlin'. I need t' get up anyways. What's goin' on?"

"I just... I — can I please come t' your place? I can't go t' school, I just _can't._"

"Yeah, baby. Ya can come here if ya want to."

"Thank you."

"No problem. I love ya."

"Love ya too."

Tolbert waited until Bud hung up to give a quiet whine, pulling a face before he peeled the covers back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and getting up. He shuffled to the dresser, grabbing a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans, changing into them before he padded out of the room.

He yawned as he made his way through the house, flicking on the lights in the kitchen and living room before he unlocked the front door. He went back to the kitchen, turning on the coffee pot and mumbling under his breath.

Tolbert wouldn't complain, though. Bud was talking to him. For the longest time, the boy had clammed up and wouldn't say so much as a word when it came to his mental health, but Tolbert always knew when something bothered him. It was easier to know what it was now that Bud actually talked to him when he felt down, overwhelmed, or uncomfortable.

And if that meant he'd be up at five-thirty every morning just so Bud could talk to him, well, Tolbert would do it. While Bud did cave and tell the rest of the family about his depression, he never told them exactly how bad it could get. He let them believe that the medicine took care of it completely and never did anything to convince them otherwise when it got bad again.

Tolbert had poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. He glanced up when Bud came into the kitchen, chewing on his lower lip as he sat down across from his older brother. Tolbert took a sip of his coffee, observing Bud.

"What's goin' on, baby?"

"I... I just don't think I can handle it t'day. I mean, I know Poppy's gonna kill me when he finds out I didn't go, but—but I honestly didn't know what else t' do. It's just really bad t'day, Tolbert," he confessed, eyes welling with tears. "I wouldn't be able t' take the insults n ev'rythin' else, so I did the first thing I thought of. I called you."

"Insults n ev'rythin' else?" Tolbert quirked a brow. "What d'ya mean by that?"

"William Johnson likes t' insult me. He likes t' beat me up, too, but that's not important. He likes tellin' me things kinda like what ya told me that day we got into it while you were drunk, but it's worse. I can usually handle it, but... I just don't trust myself t'day."

"What kind of things?"

"Like... like no one cares 'bout me n I'm a terr'ble person, that I've never made anybody proud an' ev'rybody hates me. Says I should do ev'ryone a favor n just kill myself. I mean... there's more than that, but—but that's the basics of it. I don't really know what else t' say about it. I-I've gone t' ev'ryone I can think of in the school t' try t' stop it, I really have, but it hasn't worked. They won't do nothin' to him 'cause he's the star athlete or whatever. Apparently, they need him on the sports teams an' can't suspend him."

"Bud, how long has this been goin' on? I want ya t' be honest with me," Tolbert implored, gently grasping the boy's hand.

"I — I don't want ya t' get mad."

"I won't, baby. Not at you. I promise that if I do get mad, it's not at you at all. How long's it been goin' on?"

"He's always picked on me. From the day I started school, he's picked on me. I tried t' stop it, tried t' ignore it most of elementary school and when that didn't work, I confronted him about it. He just laughed in my face n said he wouldn't ever stop. Said someone like me d'serves what I get. I think I was in fifth grade then."

"Why didn't you ever tell me, darlin'? If ya didn't want me sayin' anything, I wouldn't've. Sometimes, t' deal with idiots like that, ya jus' need someone ya can talk to 'til ya get t' where ya can get away from 'em. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times — I want t' help you, but I can't help ya if you don't talk t' me. Ya don't have t' deal with it on your own, Buddy."

"I can handle it. I've gotten used to it, it's not that bad anymore. It don't bother me nearly as much as it used to."

"That's not the point. The point is that someone has been _bullying you. _Ya reported it and nothing happened. So, I'm gonna tell ya this, Bud; don't ya start a fight with that boy, but if he starts one with you, ya better end it. I know ya can win against him. Don't let him use you as a punching bag. You're a human being, you're not a punching bag for some jerk."

"I know," he mumbled. "It's jus' a lot easier t' take it, Tol. Ya don't see how many of his friends stand there when he does it. If I hit him, it's gonna be much worse than what it is already."

"Ya can't let him beat you up. I don't care if ya have t' take one of your books and slap every single one of his friends in the face with it, don't ya let him beat you up. I'll take up for ya, I won't let ya get in trouble for it. Take up for yourself every once in a while."

"Nothin' worth takin' up for," Bud shrugged, his gaze fixated on the table.

"Excuse me? _You _are worth it," Tolbert stated, flabbergasted by the boy's attitude.

"Nah," Bud shook his head, letting his eyes flick around. "I'm not worth it. Know what I've been doin' a lot lately?"

"No."

"I've been askin' God t' let me die. I don't want t' wake up when I lay down anymore. I want t' die. I do, I really want t' die, Tolbert. I just... can't bring myself t' kill myself. I promised you I'd call you or text you when I think about it, but it's all I ever think about. I'm jus' bein' honest with you. Every dagon night, I ask God t' let me die; I ask to not wake up. It's all I want."

Tolbert felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He stared at his baby brother with wide eyes, his jaw slack as he tried to form words. What was he supposed to say to that?

"Ya don't have t' say anything," Bud said swiftly. "It's okay. You wouldn't understand it anyways."

That statement rubbed Tolbert the wrong way.

"I'll be right back," he grumbled, getting up and leaving the kitchen.

He went to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, grabbing the orange pill bottle that was inside it. He sighed heavily as he closed the cabinet, leaving the bathroom and going back to the kitchen.

Tolbert took his seat again, setting the pills on the table.

"What's that?" Bud pointed to it.

"Look at it."

Bud's brows furrowed as he took the pill bottle off of the table, reading the label. His brows furrowed when he discovered it was Lithium.

"What are ya doin' with Lithium?" he queried, his voice filled with shock.

"It's for my bipolar depression," Tolbert answered with a sigh. "Believe me, kiddo, I don't want it."

"You... how come ya never told me?" Bud stammered, his eyes flicking up and meeting Tolbert's.

"It's not somethin' I talk about very often."

"But you... I don't understand how ya can hide somethin' like that."

"It's easy t' hide the depression. I just keep it all t' myself 'til I get home and I can scream as loud as I want. Believe it or not, that does help. I usually keep myself busy so I don't think about it. The bipolar part of it is a little harder. You call it a shotgun temper."

"Tolbert," Bud breathed.

"So I understand, Bud. I understand wantin' t' die so bad that ya ask God t' let ya die. I've done it before too, I won't lie to ya. I've asked God t' let me die more times than I can count," Tolbert admitted. "I've come close t' killin' myself before, too. It's just — God, it's so hard t' explain this in a way it makes sense."

"That's why you help me," Bud muttered, realizing why Tolbert had been so adamant about helping him with his depression. "My God, why didn't you tell me that?"

"It's my job t' help you and support you in ev'ry way I can. It's not my job t' make you worry, Bud. I know that's what ya'd end up doin' if I woulda told ya 'bout it before."

"That's not the point. Ya said we'd never keep a sec—"

"I know what I said," Tolbert cut him off. "I know I said we'd never keep a secret from each other, a'ight? I just... I couldn't tell you that. No one else knows about it, Bud. Not a single soul other than you n me knows 'bout it. I'd like t' keep it that way."

"Y-yeah, whatever ya want. But _Tolbert, _ya coulda told me that b'fore."

"I know. If it helps matters any, ya've been my savin' grace more times than I care t' admit. Ya stopped me from doin' a lot of things, Bud."

"What are you talkin' about?" Bud gave a breathless laugh — one filled with disbelief.

"_You _are the reason I'm still breathing. If it wasn't for you n yer terrible timing, I woulda been dead when I was thirteen."

"_Thirteen?!_" Bud exclaimed.

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded. "Thirteen. Ya came in the room before I had the chance t' do anythin' an' ya wouldn't leave me alone. I tried everything I could think of t' try t' get you outta that room so I could lock the door b'hind ya, but ya wouldn't go. Ya mean a lot t' me, kiddo. I don't know how I'd survive without ya."

Bud was speechless. He had no idea as to how he should respond to that. All he knew was that Tolbert had depression too and that Bud had apparently kept him from killing himself.

"I'm sorry, ya came here t' get away from trouble," Tolbert shook his head. "I've gotta get ready for work. You'll be here by yourself. That okay?"

"Yeah," Bud nodded. "That's fine."

"A'ight. I'll be back in a minute."

"'Kay."

Tolbert stood, taking the pill bottle and leaving the room.

Bud bit down on his lip, brows furrowing. Tolbert understood. What Bud couldn't understand was why Tolbert hadn't told him that when all of it started. Tolbert had understood everything Bud had been going through the last four years.

He looked up when Tolbert came back, finding that he had his phone. He snatched his keys off the counter, making his way back toward the door.

"I've gotta go or Poppy's gonna kill me. Love you."

"Love you too."

—

Bud awoke with a sharp gasp.

It took him a minute to register where he was, and once he did, his panic seemed to increase. He threw the covers off and hurried toward Tolbert's room, finding it empty. His heart stopped for a second before he checked every other room in the house, only to find them all completely empty.

Tolbert wasn't there.

Bud went back to his room, crawling under the covers as a sob tore from his throat. He covered his head and curled up into a ball, crying. Tolbert wasn't there, he was missing. And if it hadn't been for Bud's (extremely detailed) dream, he wouldn't have paid any attention to the fact that he was alone.

But he needed to make sure Tolbert was alright.

The problem was Bud didn't have the slightest idea as to where his brother was. It was as though he couldn't think at all and that scared him a little, too, but what scared him the most was not being able to find Tolbert.

Bud gasped as the blanket was jerked off of him, his father bending down in front of him and wiping the tears off of his face.

"Hey, hey, breathe, son," Ran'l instructed gently. Bud drew in a strangled breath. "There ya go. Easy, Buddy. What's the matter?"

"T-Tol—Tolbert," Bud sobbed, drawing in another strangled breath.

"He's at work. He sent me over here t' check on ya."

Bud gazed at his father, blinking slowly as he processed what he'd said.

"H-he's okay?"

"Yeah, Buddy. Whatever you think happened must've been a dream."

Ran'l carded his fingers through his son's hair, watching him as he calmed himself down. Tolbert was _fine; _it was just a terrible dream. Bud made a small noise in the back of his throat, swallowing thickly and sniffling.

"So, ya wanna tell me what's goin' on with ya?" Ran'l queried, quirking a single brow.

"Wha' ya mean?" Bud mumbled, shifting slightly.

"Why're ya here?"

"I just couldn't go t'day, Poppy. 'M sorry."

"Bud, you've got t' talk t' me, son. How am I supposed t' help if ya don't talk t' me?"

"I dunno," he whispered. "It's just... really, _really _bad t'day, Poppy. I know I'm in trouble for it, but I couldn't go, Poppy. Not when I know what's gonna happen once I'm there."

"And what's that?" Ran'l asked, using his left hand to gently caress his son's face. It had been a long while since he'd seen Bud so relaxed around him.

"'M jus' gonna get insulted n told ev'ryone's better off without me — that they don't love me anyways, so I should jus' kill m'self n make it easier on 'em. I don't trust m'self very much t'day. Scared I might do somethin' if someone puts the idea in my head."

"Scoot over, son."

Bud did as he was told, moving back so his father could lay down beside him. Ran'l fixed the covers, turning onto his side, his ice-blue eyes meeting his son's hazel-green ones.

"Talk to me, Buddy. Help me understand what's goin' on with ya. Well... what's been goin' on the last four years."

And so he did. Bud poured his heart and soul out to his father, telling him about everything. He trusted Ran'l, he knew Ran'l would understand if he found a way to put it into words, so he did.

And once he'd finished, even with the tears racing down his pale face, he felt a tremendous weight lift off of his chest, as though the elephant had taken one foot off.

"Oh, Buddy," Ran'l breathed, staring at his youngest son in shock and disbelief. "I'm sorry for ev'rythin' I've said to ya 'bout that, son."

"It's okay, Poppy," he assured him, wiping at his tears. "You didn't know."

Ran'l pulled him into an embrace, planting a lingering kiss on the boy's temple. Bud buried his face in the crook of Ran'l's neck, humming in satisfaction when his father started to rub his back.

"I love ya, Bud."

"Love ya too, Poppy." A beat of silence. "I'm sorry ya ended up with someone like me. Ya d'serve a son much better than me."

"I happen t' like you just the way you are. I don't want no one else. Yer my fav'rite — ya always have been, too. I don't want ya t' change, Buddy. I want ya t' stay jus' the way ya are. I think you're one of the best people this side of the Tug. You're a good kid; a fine young man who'll do anythin' for anybody. Ya don't need t' change, Bud. You're amazin' the way ya are now."

Bud sniffled, biting down on his lip.

"I dunno, Poppy. Lotta people would disagree wit'cha," he muffled against Ran'l's shoulder. "I ain't ever made you or Mama proud. Ya gave me your name n I ain't done nothin' but shame it. 'S what other people say, anyways. I'm sorry I ain't no good. 'M not a good son, I know I'm not. Ya shoulda picked someone else t' be yer namesake."

"I don't want none of them as my namesake. I want _you _as my namesake. Ya make me proud without realizin' it, Bud. It's little things ya do. Ya don't have t' move a mountain t' make me proud of ya. I know ya don't like attention, so I don't brag when you're around, an' I don't brag t' people that'll tell them gossipin' busybodies. It stays in the fam'ly when I brag on ya. You're my baby boy an' I'm mighty proud of ya. All the others ended up bein' Mama's boys, but you're my boy. You're Poppy's boy, Buddy. I love ya the way ya are an' I'm mighty proud of ya, son."

"Ya are?" Bud peered up at him innocently, his hazel eyes shining with some form of hope.

"Yeah, darlin'. Ya make me proud t' be yer Poppy."

"Y-yeah?"

Ran'l huffed in amusement, gently cupping his son's face with one hand before he gently rubbed it.

"Yeah. I'm proud o' you."

Bud giggled and nuzzled against Ran'l's shoulder, sighing in contentment. He blinked owlishly, wrapping his arms around his father.

"Ya sleepy, Bud?"

"Lil bit."

Ran'l chuckled and kissed the top of his head.

"Get some sleep. I'll let Tolbert know yer alright."

"Y' leavin'?"

"No. It's my day off, too. I'll stay here as long as ya want me to, Buddy."

"Mkay. Love you, Poppy."

"Love you, Bud. Git some sleep, darlin'."

—

"Bud, honey."

Bud whined and swatted lazily at Calvin, who shook his shoulder.

"C'mon, Buddy, Poppy said get up."

"Go 'way," Bud groaned, turning over and pulling the covers over his head. "Leave me 'lone."

"Can't do that. Poppy told me ta get you up."

"I don't wanna get up."

"A'ight. Fine. I'll go tell Poppy ya won't get outta bed."

"Mkay."

Bud dozed off again after Calvin left. He woke up to someone shaking him, groaning and curling up into a ball under the covers.

"Leave me 'lone, Calvin."

"I'm not Calvin."

Bud turned over and uncovered his head.

"Poppy."

"Yeah, kiddo. C'mon, get outta bed n get dressed. We're gonna go do somethin' fun."

"Okay, Poppy."

—

Bud hadn't really paid much attention when Ran'l stopped the car. He'd been texting Tolbert, who was stuck in the office of the timbering company and was bored out of his mind.

"C'mon, Buddy. Let's go."

Bud looked up at him, blinking a couple of times before registering what he'd said. His eyes caught sight of the museum — the same one he'd shown Ran'l a few weeks ago — and let out a breath.

"You—you didn't have t' bring me here."

"I know. I wanted to. I figured you could use a day doin' whatever you want t' do, but I knew you'd never agree to it, so I had t' think somethin' up."

"You're amazing," Bud mumbled, slowly getting out of the truck. Ran'l breathed a laugh and got out as well.

He stepped beside Bud, who had waited for him in front of the truck, and threw his arms around the boy's shoulders. Bud glanced at him, eyes gleaming with elation as they drew closer to the museum. Ran'l smiled softly at him, giving his son's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

It had been a while since Ran'l took Bud out to do anything. He figured if he was going to do it, he might as well take him somewhere he wanted to go. Ran'l had told Sally (who'd sworn he was spoiling Bud) that he wasn't spoiling him by letting him have a little fun. "I hardly ever see him happy anymore, Sally. He's always happy when he's in one of them museums."

"Poppy, why'd ya bring me here?" Bud queried, tucking himself against his father's side.

"'Cause I wanted to."

"No other reason?"

"What other reason could I have, Bud?"

"I dunno," he shrugged lightly. "Ya could have another reason, though. Coulda picked someone better t' come with ya, too."

"No one is better than you are, Randolph McCoy, Junior. You matter jus' as much as everybody else does. I think you're an amazin' person, son. And goodness sakes, don't focus on _why _I brought ya here. Just have fun, knucklehead."

Ran'l gently smacked the side of his son's head, earning a boisterous laugh.

"That wa'n't nice," Bud spluttered between laughs.

"I never claimed t' be."

—

**_February 2018_**

"McCoy!"

Bud blanched as William approached him, wishing he could just disappear. What surprised Bud, though, was that none of William's friends were behind him.

"Hey! You still here?"

"No, William. I'm a ghost and I've come t' haunt you," he drawled sarcastically.

"Very funny, McCoy. That idiot of a father teach ya that?"

"Leave Poppy outta it," Bud snapped harshly. "He ain't done nothin' to you."

"_Poppy? _Like... like the flower?" William laughed. "That's rich, McCoy. Ya call your father the name of a flower."

"It's what I've always called him. Don't sound right when I call him anythin' but Poppy."

"Mm. Well, he'd have t' be an idiot t' have someone like you. He'd have t' be a special type of idiot t' give ya his name."

"Stop! Leave him outta it."

"An' t' think he don't care t' be seen out in public with you. _You, _a fat, disgusting, ornery pig. I feel sorry for him, honestly. Havin' a son like you? That must be terrible for him. I'll bet he don't love ya. He's stupid if he does."

Bud didn't fully process what he was doing until he did it. He'd punched William as hard as he could.

He didn't regret it; it was more the shock that overtook his emotions after he realized what he'd done that made him gasp. Bud had hit him without even _realizing _what he was doing.

Ran'l was going to kill him. And if Ran'l didn't do it, Tolbert certainly wouldn't have any qualms with doing the job for their father.

Maybe Bud should have thought it through. Maybe he shouldn't have let himself act without thinking, he didn't really know. All he knew was that William had taken off in the direction of the office, leaving him standing in the middle of the empty hallway, dumbstruck as he tried to make sense of what had happened.

He had a lot of explaining to do.

—

Bud looked up when the office door opened, revealing Tolbert. He nearly huffed in relief, but after seeing the look on his brother's face, he decided against it.

After Tolbert had a brief conversation with the principal explaining that Bud had earned himself five days of suspension (Bud personally thought that was a bit much for hitting William _one time_), Tolbert smacked his arm and they left.

Bud had managed to get ahead of him, pushing the door open with a shaking hand. He stepped outside and took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever Tolbert might say to him.

"So, the answer t' this question is goin' t' determine whether or not you get yelled at. Was it that kid that's been pickin' on you?"

"...Yeah, it was William," he grumbled.

"It's about time ya did somethin'!" Tolbert exclaimed, clapping a hand on Bud's shoulder. "What made ya hit him?"

"He wouldn't stop insultin' Poppy."

"Ya hit him 'cause he said somethin' 'bout Poppy?"

"Yeah, that's the basics of it. I'm — I didn't even realize what I did 'til I did it. I just hit him as hard as I could. I mighta broke his nose."

Tolbert squeezed Bud's shoulder as they reached the pickup truck, splitting and each getting in on their own side.

"So, since ya finally snapped and did somethin' completely irrational — but with good reasons — where do ya wanna go? We'll get somethin' t' eat b'fore I take ya home."

—

Bud knew Ran'l wasn't going to be happy about it. That was what he dreaded most — seeing the look on his father's face when he told him what he'd done.

Bud entered the office, closing the door behind him and swallowing thickly. His father looked up at him, brows furrowing.

"What're ya doin' home so early?"

"I got in some trouble," he answered honestly.

"Sit down."

Bud hurried over to one of the chairs and sat down. He wasn't stupid enough to defy his father when he'd just told him he got into trouble at school.

"What'd ya do?"

"I punched William Johnson in the face."

"Bud," Ran'l sighed tiredly.

"I—I had a reason!" Bud tried to defend himself. He could make his case and (hopefully) make Ran'l see _why _he'd punched William so hard that he possibly broke his nose.

"What reason, Bud?" Ran'l inquired, shifting slightly.

"He kept on n on 'bout how you must be an idiot, even went as far as callin' ya stupid 'cause ya gave me your name. I didn't — I didn't even _think, _Poppy. I just hit him as hard as I could. He's... William's never been nice t' me anyways. He's a jerk. I told him t' stop, I really did, but he didn't stop. So I hit him."

"Bud, ya can't go hittin' people 'cause of what they say about me," Ran'l chided gently. "_But, _if it's the same kid ya told me about, it's about time ya hit him."

Bud blinked, his eyes widening as he seemed to process what Ran'l had said.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Yeah. If it's the kid that's been pickin' on you for years, it's about time ya did somethin'. Even if it took him insultin' one of us before ya did. Was it that kid?"

"Yeah, it was him. I think I mighta broke his nose."

"Mmm. Feel bad over it?" Ran'l quirked a brow.

"No, sir," Bud shook his head. "I don't feel bad at all."

"Good. Ya shouldn't feel bad over it. Don't tell her mother I said that, though. She'd kill me."

"Unlikely."

"_Anyways, _give me the bad news. How long ya out?"

"Five days."

"For punching a kid?" Ran'l pulled a face. "Bit extreme, ain't it?"

"I think it is, but Mr. Smith don't like me much anyways, so he's prob'ly been lookin' for a reason t' suspend me. I mean, he's not the greatest principal ever. He wouldn't even do anythin' when I went to him 'bout the bullyin'."

"Oh."

Ran'l seemed surprised about that. He sighed and tapped his fingertips against the surface of the desk.

"I'll make ya a deal. No punishment from me if you tell yer mother what ya did."

"Tell Mama I lost my temper n possibly broke someone's nose?" Bud's expression morphed to a wary one.

"Yeah. She'll understand, tell her what happened and who the kid is. Believe me, Buddy, she won't get mad like ya think she will."

"Okay, Poppy," he sighed, deciding he'd rather risk his mother getting angry at him than find out what Ran'l could make him do. "Ya got a deal."

—

Bud sighed as he pulled in the driveway, shutting off his car and getting out.

"Hey, you!"

He turned to see Cap, who was smiling at him as he approached him.

"Hi...?"

"What're ya doin' here?" Cap questioned, slinging an arm around Bud's shoulders.

"Lookin' for Ellison. I need t' talk to him."

"He's inside. You can go on in if ya want to."

"Thanks."

Bud headed toward the front porch, mumbling to himself under his breath as he made his way to the open door. He went inside, finding Levicy.

"Miss Levicy?"

Levicy made a startled noise, letting out a relieved breath when she realized it was Bud.

"Dear Lord, ya scared me," she laughed breathlessly. "How can I help ya?"

"I'm lookin' for Ellison. Cap said he was in here."

"Oh. Come on, I'll show ya where he is."

Bud followed Levicy to the living room, finding Ellison, Anse, Wall, and 'Lias sitting on the couch and in two separate armchairs, talking and laughing with each other.

"Ellison," Levicy spoke up, causing the four brothers to look their way.

Spotting Bud, Ellison immediately knew why he was there. He excused himself before getting up, approaching the boy and gently smacking his arm, jerking his head in a motion to follow him. Bud did, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he followed the man to another door.

"No one ever goes t' the back porch," Ellison told him as he opened it. "We can talk out here."

Bud nodded, following him outside. Ellison closed the door and walked over to the steps, sitting down. Bud sat down beside him, clasping his hands together and rubbing his right thumb over his left hand.

"So, what d'ya need t' talk t' me about?"

"I got suspended t'day."

Ellison blinked.

"What'd ya do?"

"I punched William in the face. Can't say I regret it, 'cause I don't, but I got suspended for five days."

"Five days for punchin' someone? Dang. Cap got in a fight not too long ago n he was only out for two."

"Yeah, well, my principal doesn't like me very much. They make me feel stupid sometimes. They talk t' me like I'm dumb n don't know anything. It's just... they always take his word over mine, ya know? He's the star athlete, I'm just a freak. I can't talk about it t' my family 'cause they'd try t' do somethin' 'bout it n it'll only make it worse on me. It makes me mad, honestly. I'm gettin' tired of bein' treated like a two-year-old in high school."

"It's alright, I understand. I'm here anytime ya need t' talk."

"I just don't understand it, Ellison. I don't bother anybody, I mind my own dagon business, an' for some reason, they still decide t' pick on me. But I did somethin' that got me in trouble t'day. First time I've been in trouble in school."

"Yeah? Why'd ya punch him?"

"He kept sayin' Poppy was an idiot n that he was stupid for givin' me his name. I told him t' stop. He didn't. I lost my temper an' punched him before I really realized what I was doin'," he admitted.

"Oh, he insulted your father?" Ellison quirked a brow. "Anybody that knows you the least little bit knows not t' do that. You're a good kid, got a good heart, but ya don't take people insultin' your family kindly. I think ya were well within yer rights when ya hit him."

Bud chuckled, allowing his eyes to meet Ellison's.

"Well, I guess so. I mean... Mama n Poppy n Tolbert all said I wasn't in trouble with them. Tolbert n Poppy were happy I finally did somethin'."

"Heck, Bud, _I'm _happy ya finally did somethin'. I don't encourage ya t' be violent, but he deserved what he got with ev'rythin' he's done to ya."

"But still, ya know? That was nothin' like me. I've never done anythin' like that before in my life, Ellison, I swear it. I don't usually use my fists."

"So they did the talkin' this time," Ellison shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm proud of ya, kid. I woulda hit him a long time ago if I was in your place."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But anyway, what'd you wanna talk about?"

"What happened. I'm sorry fer botherin' ya. Sarah didn't tell me you was with your brothers."

"It's fine," Ellison assured him.

"I... I don't wanna bother ya no more. I can leave now."

"Ya better say hi t' Cotton first. He'll get mad at ya if ya don't."

"I will, I promise. Thanks for listenin' to me."

"No problem, kiddo."

—

**_March 2018_**

Bud mounted his horse, gently flicking the reins and clicking his tongue, guiding her away from the barn out back.

"Bud! Ya be careful, ya hear?"

"Yeah, Poppy, I hear ya."

Bud headed out on the path he always rode, as it was in the woods and there were hardly ever people around. He found it easier that way.

Bud liked going into the woods. He liked being on his own for a while, listening to the animals, and just enjoying nature. Bud had always liked it, even when he was five and his father took him out hunting with him after he begged him to go. Ran'l had given in and found that his son could sit there quietly as long as he wanted to.

A gunshot echoed.

Midnight reared on her hind legs, throwing Bud off, despite how hard he tried to keep hold of the reins and keep his balance. He landed with a groan, hitting his head off of something hard and falling unconscious.

—

Bud moaned as he came to, finding himself sprawled on the path in the middle of the woods. It took him a minute to remember what happened, and once he did, he immediately got up, ignoring his throbbing head.

He had to find Midnight.

"Midnight!" he called out, walking down the path in hopes that she hadn't wandered far. "_Midnight!_"

He whistled loudly, hoping she'd come running like she usually did when she heard him.

"How do I lose a horse?" he grumbled under his breath, turning to go back and hopefully persuade his brothers to help him. "I don't understand how I can lose a _horse._ They're huge! Oh no, wait, I'd be more concerned about it if I hadn't knocked myself out."

Bud continued his grumbling all the way back to the house, going in through the kitchen door.

"Where's Cal n Pharmer?" he asked immediately, ignoring the looks his parents were giving him.

"Upstairs. What happened to you?"

"Someone shot a dagon gun n spooked Midnight. I got thrown off n knocked myself out. I can't find her."

"Bud, honey... you're bleedin'," Sally informed him, her voice barely above a murmur. "Let me clean ya up b'fore ya go back out."

"A'ight," he shrugged.

"Better hope ya find her. Wildcats have been prowlin'. So have coyotes. I want you boys back before dark, understand me?" Ran'l shot him a look.

"Yes, sir. _Ow, _Mama!"

"Sorry, baby. Hold still."

Bud huffed and did as he was told, making a pained noise in the back of his throat. Sally examined the wound before putting some type of cream on it and putting a bandaid over it.

"There ya go. Go get yer brothers."

Bud nodded and hurried out of the kitchen. He had to find Midnight before some creature got her.

—

"Midnight! _Midni—_" Bud cut himself off as he approached an open area in the woods, finding Midnight lying on her side. "Hey, I've been lookin' for you."

He glanced down at the ground as he stepped down, making his way over to her.

"Midnight, quit ignorin' me—oh my God," he muttered, staring down at her. "Oh my God."

Midnight had been shot. And if Bud were to judge by the way she was, it had been intentional. Someone had intentionally shot his horse.

"_CALVIN! PHARMER!_" Bud screamed, hoping his brothers would hear him. He had no idea what he was supposed to do and finding his horse with a bullet in her head... well, it wasn't what he'd expected. He'd expected her to be alive and well.

He could hear one of his brothers running toward him. He bent down and gently stroked Midnight's side, biting down on his lower lip as his eyes flicked up when Calvin stopped in front of him.

"Oh my God, is she—"

"Yeah," Bud cut him off. "She's dead."

"Bud? Did ya find her?" Pharmer asked as he approached.

"I found her," he mumbled. "She's not okay, though. _God, _I hate people sometimes."

Bud furiously wiped at his eyes. He shouldn't be crying over a horse. But he'd had Midnight in his life since he was eleven; she'd been a pony then, and Bud had absolutely adored her. She was his horse and he took care of her like she belonged in the Kentucky Derby or she was one that was paraded around for show.

Every evening, he'd brush her down before giving her food and water before he went inside for the night. He did that on nights he stayed with Tolbert and Jim before he left, and he always made sure she was spotless.

"So... what do we do?" Calvin asked softly.

"I dunno," Bud shook his head, ridding himself of the thoughts. "I don't wanna leave her here."

"You're gonna have to," Pharmer murmured. "There's no way we can get her home without killin' ourselves. We'll come back in the mornin' or somethin', bury her right here if ya want to. We can't take her home, Bud."

"That's fine. We can come back t'morrow. Best tell Poppy 'bout it, huh? I promised I'd take care of her, that I wouldn't let her run wild n get herself or people hurt. I can't even take care of a horse without it dyin' on me."

"It's not on you, Buddy. It's on whoever shot her. That shot was intentional, it wasn't accidental. Ya can't very well stop her when she throws ya off n ya hit yer head so hard ya go unconscious."

"He's right, Bud. Don't beat yourself up over it. We'll find out who did it; things like this don't stay quiet very long. The idiot'll brag t' the wrong person that he shot her an' we'll know who it is. It's not your fault she ran off. She got spooked."

"Reckon so."

Bud stood up, Pharmer wrapping an arm around him.

"C'mon, Buddy. Let's go home."

—

"Hey, Buddy. You okay?" Ran'l asked as he entered Bud's room.

"N-no," Bud sniffled. "Why—why d' people have t' be so — so _cruel, _Poppy? She didn't do nothin' t' anybody!"

"I know."

Ran'l rounded the bed and got on it, laying down beside his son and pulling him against him, letting the boy sob into his shoulder.

"I — I don't un-understand it," he cried, wiping at his face. "Why would ya shoot a _horse? _Ya know it has t' belong t' someone."

"'Cause some people aren't happy unless they make other people miserable. Even if they don't know 'em," Ran'l murmured, pulling his fingers through Bud's thick locks of honey-brown hair. "Sometimes... sometimes people are jerks, kiddo. Sometimes all we can do is hope they get what's comin' to 'em."

Bud drew in a sharp, wheezing breath, burying his face in his father's shoulder. Ran'l sighed, wrapping his free arm around his son, who'd thrown his arms around him.

Ran'l knew how badly it bothered Bud. He'd lost an animal that he'd raised; an animal that Bud loved and adored, that he willingly cared for. Ran'l had never said anything to him when he said he was going to take Midnight out for a ride or he was going out to the barn to care for her — he had the suspicion that focusing on Midnight helped Bud when it started to get bad again.

Bud hardly ever talked about what he battled every day. He hardly ever let on when something was wrong and he usually kept it all to himself. Bud distracted himself by taking care of Midnight and taking her out at least three times a week on the same path in the woods.

He didn't have that anymore. He didn't have that escape any longer and Ran'l wasn't sure what the boy was going to do now that he didn't. Midnight had helped Bud escape for a little while. She'd helped him get out on his own long enough to clear his thoughts or try to better his mood before he accidentally snapped at someone. Midnight was a distraction from his thoughts.

"I don't understand why I'm cryin' s' much," Bud admitted softly. "She was a horse. She wasn't a person."

"Don't have t' be a person for ya t' love her. Ya love Missy, don't ya?"

"Yeah," Bud nodded swiftly. "Of course I do."

"It's like that, Bud. Midnight was like a pet in a way, I reckon. Just... much bigger than yer hound dog an' harder t' care for."

"I don't like people," Bud muttered softly. "Why would ya shoot a horse?"

"I don't know, son. I'm sorry."

"God, Poppy, I just... I keep thinkin' 'bout it an' it's not makin' any sense at all t' me. I want t' find out who did it."

"You will. Things like that don't stay quiet long."

Bud fell silent, save for the occasional sniffle. He laid there and let his father hold him, savoring the comfort he felt. He still felt like he shouldn't feel the way he did, that he was overreacting, but he couldn't stop the pit in his chest from growing wider and deeper. It was just another thing to add to the endless list of things to think about late at night.

Bud tucked his head in the crook of Ran'l's neck, letting out a content huff as his eyelids grew heavy. It had been a long, trying day and he wanted to do nothing more than sleep.

—

Bud glanced up as Tolbert entered the office, closing the door behind him. Tolbert knew instantly that something was wrong; Bud's eyes were red and his face was flushed, almost as though he'd been crying for a long while. He wore his glasses (which was rare — Bud hated his glasses) and gave a wave, opting not to say a word.

"What's wrong?"

"Someone shot Midnight," he murmured. "I — I took her out yesterday. Someone shot a gun n it scared her. I got thrown off n hit my head real hard, knocked myself out. Went lookin' for her after I came back t' get Cal n Pharmer t' help me and I found her. Someone intentionally shot her. A stray bullet don't hit the way that one did."

"Oh, Buddy," Tolbert breathed.

Tolbert knew just how much Midnight meant to Bud. He always distracted himself by taking care of her or taking her out for a little while. Bud would focus on her when he started to get overwhelmed by his thoughts and emotions. By taking care of her, he distracted himself long enough for the thoughts and feelings to go away.

It was how Bud coped with everything he dealt with; he'd go out to the barn for a few hours on his own and care for his horse. He usually ended up caring for the others as well, but Midnight had been Bud's horse, the one that he was proud to own.

Tolbert caught sight of Bud stretching his arm down toward the floor, almost as though he was petting something.

"You have Missy in here?" Tolbert quirked an inquisitive brow.

"Yeah. Poppy said I could bring her in if I wanted to. She's all I've got left now," Bud murmured sadly. "I don't wanna risk her wanderin' off n gettin' killed too, Tol."

Tolbert sighed and shot the boy a sympathetic look. Bud didn't really trust people (other than family). He spent most of his time with his animals, playing with them and caring for them, making them look so beautiful that one would think they belonged in some sort of show or contest. Bud prided himself in his ability to care for animals. It was something that came naturally to him and he enjoyed doing it.

"We'll get ya another horse, Bud. It'll be okay."

"No," he shook his head, "no, I don't want another one. It'll get killed too."

"Ya don't know that. Just... don't go on that path anymore, a'ight? That coulda been you they shot n not the horse," Tolbert pointed out.

"Not sure how that's s'pposed t' make me feel, Tolbert. I've told ya before I don't care if I die or not."

"Bud—"

"Don't," he stated shakily. "I'm fine with it."

"And if Mama n Poppy n our brothers n sisters knew about that, I guarantee you they wouldn't feel that way. _I _ain't fine with you feelin' that way, but I can't possibly change how you feel. I can't even — my God, Bud, I don't like that ya feel that way."

"You feel the same way I do, Tolbert. Ya think I like that ya feel that way?"

"No, baby, I don't think ya like it very much. But I love ya. It's just how I feel, it's not... it's not like I'll ever do anythin', ya know?"

"Yeah, I know. That's the way I feel, Tol."

"Reckon we're a lot alike, hm?"

"Reckon so."

"So... so what're ya gonna do?"

"Gonna go bury her this evenin'. We didn't have enough time this mornin'."

"Alright, baby. I'll go with ya."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I know ya ain't gonna let anyone go with ya."

"I told Pharmer n Cal I can go on my own n do it. I just... I don't wanna cry in front of them."

"It's okay t' cry, Bud. I'll go with ya, I won't tell anyone."

"Mkay. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

—

A week later, when Bud returned home from school, he found his father waiting for him.

"Ya gotta see this."

"See what?" Bud pulled a face, closing the door to his SUV.

"C'mon, son, ya gotta see this."

"See what?" Bud laughed a little, following his father to the barn. "Poppy, what's so great back here? I don't—"

"Trust me," Ran'l smiled softly. He pushed the door open and let Bud enter the barn first and stepping in behind him. "This way."

Bud exhaled deeply through his nostrils, deciding to play along with whatever his father was up to. He led him to the empty stall in the back of the barn, the one across from the stall Midnight used to be in. Bud gave his father a weird look as he approached before realizing the stall wasn't empty anymore.

"I know what ya told Tolbert, but I also know how much ya like takin' care of 'em. It helps you, even if ya don't realize it yourself."

"Poppy—"

"Bud, ya can't let somethin' like this effect what you like t' do. Ya love animals, ya like takin' care of 'em an' raisin' 'em. You're a country boy through n through, Buddy. Don't let what happened bother ya so much ya give up somethin' ya love."

Bud looked conflicted. His eyes flicked between Ran'l and the pony, who was a beautiful shade of light brown that Bud would describe as caramel. It was the only word he could think of to fit the shade of brown, and he didn't fully know what to think of it yet. Bud didn't even know if he wantedthe pony.

He gazed at it for a moment, his brow furrowing as he anxiously chewed on his lip, trying to decide what he wanted to do.

His father had been right — Bud loved raising animals. He loved taking care of them and watching them grow, he loved teaching them things. Bud loved working with animals more than he did writing, and he did that quite a bit as well.

He made a quiet noise in the back of his throat when his chest started to tighten, bringing his hand up and rubbing it. He knew what was going to happen the instant he felt his chest tighten.

"Bud? You alright?"

He nodded silently, licking his lips before he took in a deep breath. What was wrong with him? There was no reason he should be having a panic attack. Bud was fine, there was no reason for it.

His hands grasped the door to the stall when he became lightheaded, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. Bud had to calm down.

"Bud?"

"I'm okay. Just... just give me a minute."

He moved to where his forehead rested against his arms, his hands tangling themselves in his hair as he fought to calm himself down. He took deep breaths, his eyes closed as he tried to calm himself. He could feel Ran'l gently rub his back. He must've figured it out, then.

Bud gave a quiet whine, tugging at his hair. He was okay, he was fine. He needed to stop it before it got too bad.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ran'l asked skeptically.

"Not really," he answered honestly. "I can't calm down."

"Here, come here, son."

Bud stood and turned to face his father, who pulled him into an embrace, rubbing his back. Bud threw his arms around him, placing his head on his shoulders and trying to relax.

"You're okay. Just breathe, honey," Ran'l murmured, letting him nuzzle against his shoulder. Bud hummed and closed his eyes, relishing in the comfort he felt.

It took him a moment to calm down. Bud stepped back and mumbled his thanks, Ran'l cupping his son's face with his hands, smiling softly at him.

"You okay now, Buddy?" He quirked a brow.

"Yeah, Poppy," he nodded slightly. "'M okay now."

Bud moved away from him, opening the door to the stall and closing it behind him. He extended his hand toward the pony, letting it sniff his hand before he gently stroked its snout.

"Ain't you purdy," Bud remarked under his breath, gently petting the pony's back. Looking back at Ran'l, he asked, "Boy or girl?"

"Boy."

He nodded to show he'd heard him, stroking the pony's snout again.

"Mmm... I could have fun namin' this one. Both of my animals have been girls."

"That's true," Ran'l chuckled. "You think about it, knucklehead. You'll come up with somethin'."

"Poppy..."

"Yeah, Bud?"

"Thank ya. Ya didn't have t' get another one."

"I know. Think nothin' of it, Buddy. I'm gonna head inside now, a'ight?"

"A'ight."

—

"Jim, honey, would you be a dear n fetch Bud for me?" Sally requested, her eyes flicking up and meeting her eldest son's.

"Yeah, Mama. Where is he?"

"He's out in the barn."

"The barn?" Tolbert's brows furrowed. "What's he doin' out there?"

"Your father went n got a pony t'day. Bud's been out there since he came home."

Jim hummed as he stood up, making his way toward the kitchen. He went through the back door and headed out to the barn, whistling as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

He entered the barn, his eyes immediately finding Bud, who was muttering under his breath while he messed with something.

"Hey, Buddy! Mama says it's time t' come in."

"A'ight, jus' give me a — _woah!_" Bud stumbled back, landing on the ground with a grunt. He sighed heavily as Jim approached and opened the door to the stall, stepping inside and closing it.

"You a'ight?" Jim offered his hand to him.

"Fine," Bud responded, placing his hand in Jim's, allowing his older brother to pull him to his feet. Bud dusted himself off before he looked up at Jim. "What's Mama want me t' come in for?"

"It's time for supper."

"Oh."

Bud moved past him, climbing over the stall door and walking into the stall Midnight used to stay in. He grabbed a bucket that was hanging on a hook on the wall, walking to the front of the barn and filling it with feed. He went back to the stall, carefully climbing over the door again and dumping it in the trough that had _Midnight _painted on it in a fancy script.

"You're usin' Midnight's trough?" Jim quirked a brow.

"Yeah. Just 'til I have time t' go get one for him. I don't like it very much, but right now, it is what it is."

"Oh, it's a boy?"

"Mhm. I think he's gonna be easy t' teach. He's real peaceful."

"What'd ya name him?"

"Apollo."

"Purdy."

"Turns out Greek mythology does come in handy," Bud remarked, gently patting Apollo's back before he opened the door to the stall. "I thought I'd never use it for anythin' in my life, much less naming an animal."

He stepped out of the stall, Jim laughing at him as he stepped out as well. Bud closed and locked the door, looking at Jim, who was still laughing.

"What?"

"Nothin', kid. Let's get inside."

—

**_April 2018_**

Bud shoved the door open, huffing and stalking down the hall after he closed the door. He went to his room, tossing the backpack in the corner before he pulled off his boots and set them in the corner as well.

He knew Tolbert was mad at him. There was no other way Tolbert could have felt after he'd pulled Bud off of Pharmer, who had been taking one heck of a beating from his baby brother. Bud had pinned him to the ground and he hadn't held back; he didn't even try to control his temper.

Tolbert sighed heavily as he leaned against the doorway, shooting Bud an unamused look. Bud didn't care, though. He just sat down at his desk, glancing up when Tolbert moved.

Tolbert crossed the room and sat on the edge of Bud's bed, giving him an expectant look.

"What?" Bud snapped.

"Why'd ya do it, Bud?"

"Look, I told him I wa'n't in a good mood. _I told him _t' get someone else t' help him fix whatever it was he was fixin'. It's not my fault he mumbled and I couldn't understand him! He called me a stupid, brainless moron because I heard him wrong. I only heard him wrong 'cause he mumbled! But I told him I'm not in a good mood t'day. I told him I could easily snap n he said it would be fine. Well, guess what? _It wasn't._"

"Bud, did you take your medicine t'day?" Tolbert asked knowingly.

"No," he grumbled. "I'm out."

"Why didn't ya tell me?"

"Didn't realize it 'til this mornin' n then I forgot about it. But I told him I ain't in a good mood, Tol. I told him t' ask someone else n he wouldn't. I couldn't stop myself; I never can when it happens like that."

"Did you even try?"

"Not really, no," he confessed. "I don't even bother trying anymore. Don't do no good."

"A'ight. It's fine, ya hardly ever do anythin' irrational and... I'm sure Poppy'll understand once he hears your side of it. We'll get your medicine, let ya take it, maybe give Poppy some time t' calm down b'fore we go back. Okay?"

"Okay," he nodded.

—

Bud gulped as Tolbert pulled into the driveway, spotting his father on the front porch. He didn't look happy in the least and Bud knew then and there that Pharmer had given his version of the story and had likely left out a few key details.

He got out of the truck and approached the porch, a lump forming in his throat.

"Come sit down, Bud."

Bud hesitantly did as he was told. Tolbert went inside, leaving Bud alone with their father.

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

"I told him I wa'n't in a good mood. I told him t' ask someone else. I misheard him 'cause he mumbled n he called me a stupid, brainless moron. I can't control it when I'm in those kinds of moods, Poppy, I really can't. I don't even try to anymore 'cause it don't do me no good. I just... I hit him. And I didn't stop."

"Bud... why didn't ya stop?"

"Couldn't stop myself," he shrugged. "I didn't hurt him too bad, did I?"

"No, ya didn't hurt him too bad," Ran'l assured him. "He's okay, son. A little sore and bruised, but he's a'ight."

"Good. I don't... is he mad, Poppy?"

"No," Ran'l shook his head. "He told me what happened; he told me exactly what you did. You explained your side of it a little better than he did, but he said he thought that ya didn't take yer medicine this mornin'."

"No, I didn't," he admitted sheepishly. "I didn't realize I was out until this morning. I was gonna tell Tol when he came in an' forgot 'bout it. I got it now, though. I took it."

"Alright. You in a better mood now?"

"Yeah," Bud nodded swiftly. "I'm okay now; it's not... it's not as bad. I can control my temper."

Ran'l shot him a look, standing and going inside. Bud's brows furrowed and he turned around in his chair, but he quickly averted his gaze when Pharmer stepped out and closed the door.

Bud turned around again, hanging his head low and picking at his nails. He wouldn't blame Pharmer if he punched him directly in the face.

"Hey, Buddy."

"Hey," he muttered lamely. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Pharmer waved it off as he sat down. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Bud lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting Pharmer's.

"I know ya, Bud. I know how ya are. Ya wouldn't do somethin' like that without a reason."

"I just didn't have any medicine this mornin'," Bud mumbled. "I forgot t' tell Tol 'bout it and... yeah. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I shouldn't-a called ya a stupid, brainless moron. I'm sorry for that, by the way," Pharmer took hold of Bud's hand.

"Don't be," Bud shook his head. "I think it describes me pretty well now. I proved ya right."

"How so?" Pharmer's brows pinched together.

"I shoulda never hit ya, I'm so sorry. I just... I can't control the random bouts of anger, Pharmer. It scares me when I get like that because I can't control myself. I just proved to myself that I can really hurt someone if I want to. I'm so sorry I hit you like that. I don't care if ya called me a stupid, brainless moron or not, I shouldn't've reacted that way. You was mad, ya didn't mean it. I know when ya mean somethin' n when ya don't."

"Do ya?" Pharmer blinked.

"Yeah," he chuckled slightly, a small smile appearing on his face as he shifted in his chair. "Ya never look me in the eye when ya don't mean it. You'll look _at me, _but ya never meet my eyes. It's always my shoulder, or my chest, or my chin. I know when you're lyin' to me an' when you're not. Like you were lyin' when ya said you're fine."

Bud shot Pharmer a scolding look.

"It just hurts a little 's all," Pharmer shrugged. "I took some Tylenol, it's not as bad as it was. Reckon we both got int' some trouble, huh?"

"Seems that way." A beat of silence. "I'm sorry... again. I shoulda just told ya why I didn't wanna help ya in the first place."

"It's fine. If anything, we've learned that you're literally as strong as Hercules," Pharmer jested, earning an eye roll from Bud.

"That's _not _funny."

"Sure it is," he grinned cheekily. "Ya just don't have a sense of humor."

—

Tolbert cast his baby brother a knowing glance when he entered his room. Bud never came in his room unless he was having a panic attack and couldn't calm himself down or he'd had a really bad nightmare. He usually stayed there until he was sure he wouldn't throw himself into a panic attack, and sometimes he ended up dozing off before he had the chance to go back to his room.

Tolbert never minded it. He liked Bud's company.

"Ya okay?" he asked as Bud climbed onto the bed.

"Yeah. I can't sleep, so I'm gonna try somethin'," he grumbled, curling up against Tolbert.

"Ah. How long's it been since ya slept, Bud?"

"I dunno, maybe four days? I lost count. I can't sleep no matter what I do n I hate it."

"I know ya do," Tolbert sighed, pulling his fingers through Bud's hair. Bud hummed and scooted a little closer, his eyes fluttering shut. That felt nice. "That feel good or somethin'?"

"_Mhm._"

Bud exhaled deeply through his nostrils, wrapping his arms around Tolbert's middle as he shifted ever so slightly to get comfortable.

"Feels real nice," he mumbled. "I like it."

"Well, I'm glad ya do," Tolbert chuckled.

"H-hey, Tol?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you," Bud murmured, peering up at him.

"For what, baby?" Tolbert looked genuinely confused.

"Always bein' there for me, even when you're mad as can be at me. Ya've helped me so much with all this and... sometimes it still feels like I'm falling, but you're always there t' catch me when I do. I love you."

"I love you too, baby," Tolbert smiled softly, bending down and pressing a kiss to his temple. "Get some sleep."


	17. Blowing to my Face with Scorn (AU)

**_August 1867_**

"Tolbert, ya can't live on your own," Jim sighed. "Not yet, anyways."

"People my age are gettin' married, Jim. I think I can live on my own wit' my little brother," Tolbert retorted.

Sally and Ran'l had gotten killed in a terrible wagon accident. From what Tolbert had understood from the very brief explanation that had been blurted and a little difficult to understand, a wheel had broken or something like that and it had ended horribly for their parents.

"Tolbert, who do ya know that's your age n got married?"

"I didn't say I know anybody my age that got married! I said that there are people my age gettin' married. I can take care of him, I know I can."

Jim shot him a wary look. He wasn't sure about his thirteen-year-old brother living on his own with their two-year-old brother. But Tolbert was standing his ground — he knew he could do it.

"Alright," Jim conceded. "I'm gonna take these two home. You will stay here, in this cabin. Understood?"

"Yeah, Jim. Thank ya," Tolbert beamed at him.

"You're welcome. I'll be back t'morrow t' help in the fields. Lord knows it takes more than one of us t' tend to 'em."

"A'ight. Hey, Jim?"

"Yeah, baby?" Jim turned to face him again.

"Love ya."

"Love ya too."

—

Tolbert had found everything that belonged to his younger siblings and sorted through it, putting their belongings in their chests that would be picked up the next day. The girls were living with Aunt Betty and Calvin and Pharmer were living with Jim. Tolbert left Bud's chest where it was, as the boy wasn't going to go anywhere since he was living with him.

Tolbert had moved his own chest to the room across the hallway. He figured it would be best to try to adapt to their new life as quickly as possible. It was different for all of them. Bud would have his own room now, one that belonged to him and him alone. Tolbert had always wanted his own room, and now that he had it, he didn't want it. He hadn't wanted his parents to die and their family to split up.

He wiped at his eyes before he left the room, lifting his baby brother and carrying him downstairs, as the boy could barely get up and down them without hurting himself.

"Whaddaya say we have some soup for supper t'night?"

Bud nodded mutely, laying his head on Tolbert's shoulder. Tolbert planted a soft, tender kiss on his temple, setting him down at the table.

"We're gonna be alright," Tolbert forced a smile. "We'll make it through this, baby."

"P'omise?" Bud mumbled.

"Yeah, baby. I promise."

—

Tolbert had dreaded going to Sunday meeting that week. He knew what it would be the instant the service was over, and he really didn't want to listen to it.

But he went anyway, Bud on his hip as they exited the church house, the little boy barely awake as he'd hardly slept a wink the night before. Tolbert forced a small smile as he shook Reverend Garrett's hand.

"Tolbert, are ya sure ya wanna raise him on your own?" Reverend Garrett questioned.

"Yes, Reverend, I'm sure."

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask me. I'll do my best t' help ya."

"Mighty kind of ya, Reverend. I'm sure we'll be fine, though."

"Alright. Take care."

Tolbert nodded and descended the few stairs, heading toward the tree his horse was tethered to. He hadn't even bothered with the wagon — it was just him and Bud, and Bud was still small enough to ride with Tolbert, so there was no need to hitch up the wagon.

"My God, can ya believe Jim let Tolbert keep Bud? He's gonna let that rude, ill-mannered, hot-headed boy raise that innocent child!"

"Well, Betty didn't do nothin' 'bout it either. Ya can't blame it all on Jim — he took two of the boys."

Tolbert sighed and shook his head. It was expected, if he was to be honest. He'd expected the church women to disapprove of his decision to keep Bud and raise him as his own. They'd never liked him and he didn't really know why.

But Tolbert loved Bud more than anything in the world. He'd never let anything happen to him and he'd do his best to raise him to be a good person.

"Tol'ert, can we go home?" Bud murmured sleepily.

"Yeah, baby," he nodded slightly. "We can go home."

—

**_February 1868_**

Bud had felt poorly for the last two days. Tolbert really didn't think anything of it — he hadn't seemed to feel any worse than he usually did when he got sick, so he'd ordered him to stay inside while he tended to the chores.

Tolbert huffed as he shuffled in, shivering as he closed the door. Bud was sitting at the table, his arms folded with his head resting on top of them.

"Baby?" Tolbert's brows furrowed as he walked over to him. "Ya a'ight?"

"Don't feel good," he moaned, raising his head as Tolbert crouched down. He blinked owlishly as Tolbert placed the back of his hand on his forehead, his eyes closing. Tolbert's cold hand felt nice against his hot, clammy skin.

"My God, yer burnin' up," Tolbert breathed. "Let's put yer nightshirt on ya. Ain't no sense ya runnin' 'round dressed like this when yer home."

He lifted the boy, who tucked his head in the crook of Tolbert's neck, allowing his older brother to carry him upstairs to his room. Tolbert set him on the bed before moving and opening the chest at the foot of the bed, digging through it and pulling out Bud's nightshirt.

He returned and unbuttoned Bud's shirt, his eyes landing on a rash on the boy's chest. Fear seized Tolbert's heart as he undressed the boy, carrying on in a normal conversation with him. Tolbert didn't mind talking with him; it assured him that he was okay.

Pulling Bud's nightshirt over his head, Tolbert turned his head toward the door when he heard someone come up the stairs.

"Bert? Ya up here?" Jim called out.

"In here! Give me a second." Returning his focus to Bud, he tucked the boy in and grabbed the clothes he'd changed out of before assuring him he'd be back in a moment or two. He stepped out of the room and closed the door, his eyes meeting Jim's. "Downstairs, please."

Jim nodded and followed his little brother down the stairs, looking at him strangely.

"What's goin' on, Tol?"

"Where's the boys?"

"With Aunt Betty. Why?"

"I need ya t' do me a favor," Tolbert's voice was barely above a whisper. "Bud's got this rash on his chest an' he's burnin' up. I need ya t' fetch Doc for me."

"A'ight. I'll be back as soon as I find him."

Relief flooded Tolbert's features.

"Thank ya."

—

Jim didn't return until the next day. Tolbert had told Doc Rutherford where Bud was and the man had immediately headed for the stairs.

"I'm so sorry, it took me a while t' find him. I can't remember who just had a baby, but that was where he was. I didn't find him 'til he rode int' town late yesterday evenin'. It was too dark by then t' try t' get back," Jim explained briefly. "Bud alright?"

"He's worse than he was when ya left," Tolbert answered honestly. "I've been tryin' t' make him comfortable. He's absolutely _miserable. _I jus' hope I caught it in time, Jim. I don't know how I didn't see it when he started complainin' 'bout not feelin' good."

"Hey, it's okay. Bud's gonna be okay. I don't know much 'bout scarlet fever, but I know that he ain't had it long an' that ya caught it pretty quick. He didn't have a rash the last time I saw him."

Tolbert hummed softly.

"I don't know how I missed it when I dressed him yesterday mornin'. Guess I wasn't payin' much attention to it."

"Maybe not. But Tolbert, children Bud's age get poorly all the time. Ya can't take the blame for this; it's nothin' but a sickness. He coulda caught it from anybody."

"I know. But _Jim, _he could lose his hearin' or his sight, or he could die on me. I can't lose him. I jus' can't lose him, Jim," he confessed, a few tears escaping onto his face.

Jim shot him a sympathetic look. He knew Tolbert had been taking it hard; he was still grieving their parents and Jim wasn't sure if the thirteen-year-old could handle losing his three-year-old brother, who happened to be the one person that had willingly attached himself to Tolbert's hip. Tolbert loved him as though he was his own child, even though their parents hadn't been dead long.

Tolbert had let his guard down.

He'd let his guard down around him and he'd grown to love him more than he already had when he dove headfirst into a situation he didn't know anything about. But he was doing his best with it, raising Bud the best he could, and he found he rather enjoyed the little boy's company. Bud was one that was eager to learn and Tolbert didn't mind teaching him, so long as it was nothing dangerous.

Jim knew that, as Tolbert had admitted it to him a few days ago, and he knew how badly it was affecting him. Jim wasn't sure Tolbert would even correct Bud if he ever called him _Poppy _instead of Tolbert. He knew that it would happen eventually; Bud was two when they died, he wouldn't remember them long.

"Tolbert, can I talk to ya for a minute?" Doc requested, standing near the staircase. Tolbert nodded and made his way over to him.

Jim sighed and leaned against the counter. He knew that Tolbert would eventually tell Bud everything that had happened, but he wasn't sure he'd stop him from calling him _Poppy. _Jim had never seen anyone love another human being as much as Tolbert loved Bud. He was thirteen and he was playing the role of a father, and he was doing quite well with it, in Jim's opinion.

Or at the very least, he was doing better than him. Calvin and Pharmer were constantly asking for Ran'l and Sally and Jim was struggling to make them understand that they wouldn't be coming back.

Tolbert shuffled back to him, his brows pinched together.

"He's got scarlet. Doc's gonna cut his arm n let him bleed a little. Bloodletting. Said it's the only way t' cure it. And since Bud fought him so much while he was up there examinin' him, he's gonna give him a sedative. Said he can't safely do it if Bud's gonna fight him like that."

"But he'll be alright?" Jim pressed.

"Doc said he'd let me know after he gets it done."

Jim nodded slightly.

It was silent for a few moments. It was a solemn silence that neither one of them liked, but one that they didn't dare to break, either. The silence seemed to envelope the cabin with a heavy feeling added on to it, making it worse.

Doc came downstairs, motioning to Tolbert, who followed him up the stairs. They stopped in front of Bud's room.

"I'm sure he'll be fine in a day or two. The fever should break then. But Tolbert, it's not gonna go away without leavin' its mark on him," Doc informed him, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What d'ya mean by that?" Tolbert's brows furrowed in confusion.

"He's gone deaf in his right ear, Tolbert."

"Oh..." he breathed. "But you're sure he'll be okay? He's not gonna die on me?"

"No, he's not gonna die on ya. Jus' keep him away from Sunday meetin' this week. He's gonna be just fine, Tolbert."

"Thank ya, Doc."

"Think nothin' of it, Tolbert. Will ya be alright here on your own with him?"

"Yeah, of course," he nodded swiftly. "We git along jus' fine on our own."

"A'ight. If he ain't no better by Sunday, send for me."

"Yes, sir."

—

Tolbert had gone to his room after Doc and Jim left. He'd cried and sobbed, trying to convince himself that he couldn't stay there. He had to be there for Bud when he woke up.

So he got up and sniffled, grabbing a shirt out of his chest before he left the room. Once Bud woke up, he'd give him a bath and dress him in Tolbert's shirt. Bud liked wearing them, for whatever reason he had, and Tolbert would do his very best to bring him some joy as he was sure the boy wouldn't be too happy when he woke up.

Tolbert dreaded it. He dreaded the moment Bud would realize he couldn't hear in his right ear. He didn't know how he would react, but he knew it wouldn't be good. Tolbert couldn't see an outcome for this situation that was good.

He was going to have to work through this on top of everything else that had been thrust upon him six months ago. He'd gone from being Bud's older brother to being his father — for lack of a better term — and he was raising the boy to the best of his ability. And now... well, now it was a new challenge. He was going to have to figure out how to help Bud adapt to it.

Sitting down on the edge of Bud's bed, he gently pulled his fingers through the boy's thick locks of honey-brown hair. Tolbert exhaled deeply, knowing that he'd have a lot to deal with once Bud woke up.

—

Tolbert sighed as he knelt beside the tub, covering Bud's eyes as he dumped water over his head. He knelt on the left side so Bud could hear him, smoothing the boy's hair back before grabbing the soap.

"Why don't it work no more?" Bud asked softly, his hazel eyes flicking up and meeting Tolbert's.

"Well, I don't rightly know, Buddy. All I know's that scarlet fever did somethin' to it an' ya can't hear in that ear anymore," Tolbert responded as he started to wash Bud's hair. "But it's okay. It's gonna take a while, but you'll get used to it. We'll jus' make sure ya can hear us, darlin'."

"Mkay. Will it work 'gain?"

"'Fraid not, baby. It's not gonna work again."

Bud sniffled.

Tolbert's heart broke for him. At the age of three, Bud had lost both of his parents and he was deaf in his right ear. Tolbert's heart broke a little more when he realized it wouldn't take Bud long to forget their parents — he'd been two when they died, after all, and Tolbert wasn't sure what he was going to do about that.

Tolbert covered Bud's eyes again.

"Close yer eyes. Just in case."

Bud did as he was told. Tolbert rinsed his hair, Bud scowling as he did so. Bud looked at Tolbert after he'd rinsed his hair, blinking a few times before allowing his eyes to scan his older brother's face.

"Why're ya starin' at me?" Tolbert asked plainly, but not unkindly.

"Dunno," he shrugged innocently. "Y' look kinda sad, Tol'ert."

"I am," Tolbert murmured. "I've got a lotta things t' be sad about, baby. But don't you worry none about it. Let's getcha outta the tub, get ya dressed, then we'll get ya somethin' t' eat. How's that sound?"

"Okay."

"And hey," Tolbert hooked a finger under his chin, pressing his forehead against Bud's. "Don't do anythin' t' your bad ear. Don't hit it or anythin' like that; it won't help none. Okay?"

"Mkay, Tol'ert. I won't hit it."

"Good. I love you."

"I love ya too."

—

**_March 1868_**

Tolbert had allowed Bud to play in the churchyard while he talked with Jim, who held Pharmer on his hip. Apparently, the four-year-old had kept Jim up all night and now he wanted to sleep, which apparently wasn't going to happen since Jim kept poking him to wake him.

Tolbert watched Bud run after Calvin, barely able to keep up with his older brother that was two years his senior. He shook his head with a quiet laugh, turning back to Jim for a second.

"Might wanna get Bud, Tol. He's gonna end up runnin' int' them," Jim told him.

He turned back, seeing that Bud was a little too close to the women that he tried to avoid at all costs. Tolbert jogged over, but he didn't make it in time, as the boy had been laughing at something and had stumbled, hitting Mrs. White. Tolbert grimaced and picked him up, making sure he was okay.

"_You _are not qualified t' be raisin' a child, Tolbert McCoy!" Mrs. White exploded. Tolbert didn't say anything; he just stood there and took the verbal assault. "Ya shouldn't even be around that boy, let alone be raisin' him! He's gonna end up bein' as ill-mannered, hot-headed, and rude as you are! It's a shame that such an innocent child is goin' t' be ruined by you."

"Well, heck, why weren't ya here last week, Tolbert?" another spoke up.

"Bud was poorly last week," he answered curtly.

"That's no excuse. The boy should be raised in church."

"Doc told me t' keep him home. I doubt ya'd be happy if I brought him here when he was recoverin' from scarlet fever."

"Scarlet fever?" Mrs. White shot him a look. "I find it hard t' believe."

"You might, but he don't. Say all ya want about me, I don't care, but ya leave him outta it. He ain't done nothin' to you an' he's got enough goin' on without you constantly gossipin' about him an' criticizin' him."

"What could a three-year-old possibly have goin' on?" she scoffed.

Bud poked Tolbert's cheek before he had the chance to answer, winning his older brother's attention.

"What'd ya do that for?" Tolbert softened his voice, brushing the boy's hair out of his eyes.

"I wanna go home," he mumbled.

"A'ight, Buddy. We'll go home." He returned his attention to the ladies for a moment, forced a smile, and said, "Have a nice day."

—

Tolbert didn't know why he'd let their Aunt Martha talk him into coming over for dinner. He didn't know why he hadn't expected Sam and Paris to be there as well, but he hadn't, and he'd agreed to let Bud play with them.

"Be careful now, ya hear?" Tolbert shot him a look. Bud only nodded before joining his cousins.

Tolbert sighed before going inside, finding Martha almost instantly. She smiled and greeted him, then realized that Bud wasn't with him.

"He's out there with the boys. Hope they don't say anythin' 'bout his ear. I've never done anythin' like this, Aunt Martha. I can't even let him play with Calvin after church anymore!"

"Why not?"

"He stumbled, hit Miss White's leg 'fore I could get to him. With the way she acts, ya'd think I was the Devil. Says I'm gonna ruin him, that I'm not... not qualified t' raise him. She said he was gonna be as ill-mannered, hot-headed, and as rude as I am. Didn't b'lieve me when I said he was recoverin' from scarlet last week. They act like I wanted them t' die. I didn't want them t' die!"

Martha pulled the boy into a tight embrace, letting him cry into her shoulder. She'd heard about how Tolbert wasn't letting himself grieve in front of Bud, that he was keeping it all bottled up and wouldn't allow himself to grieve his parents. Tolbert was a thirteen-year-old boy that had taken it upon himself to raise his baby brother.

She wasn't sure if it was because he felt like he had to or because he wanted to, but she knew that Tolbert was doing his best with it while he tried to hide his grief and how much he was struggling.

Tolbert clung to her, whimpering quietly as tears rolled down his face. Martha shushed him and rubbed his back comfortingly. He fought to regain his composure, mumbling his apologies. Martha assured him that it was fine, that he needed to let himself cry. Tolbert shook his head and took a step back.

"'M okay," he forced out, wiping at his eyes. "I promise I'm okay, Martha."

Martha gave him a skeptical look. She doubted he was okay, but she wouldn't press the matter if he didn't want to talk about it.

"No! No, s'op it! _S'op it!_"

Tolbert's brows furrowed as he looked at Martha before he turned and ran outside, finding that Bud was surrounded by their cousins, who was hitting the little boy's ear and yelling into it. He heard one of them make a remark about his ear and his anger multiplied by a tenfold.

"_HEY!_" Tolbert shouted, startling all four of them. He made his way over to them, Bud scrambling to his feet and hiding behind Tolbert's leg. "What do ya think yer doin'?!"

"We was jus' tryin' t' fix it," Sam shrugged innocently.

"Ya can't fix it. He's gone deaf in that ear, don't ya understand that?! Ya bunch of morons better quit makin' fun of him n doin' him like that. It can easily happen t' you too. All it takes is catchin' scarlet or somethin' like it. And if I _ever _hear any of ya makin' fun of him, or hittin' him in the ear like that, I swear to ya, ya won't be able t' sit for a _month._ Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir, Tolbert," Jefferson stammered. Sam and Paris nodded in agreement.

"C'mon, Bud. Let's get inside."

He guided the little boy toward the front porch, allowing him to grasp his hand while they walked. Tolbert waited patiently for Bud to climb the few stairs, huffing in amusement when he reached the top and looked up at him, beaming.

"Whaddaya say we make sure them knuckleheads didn't hurt ya none before we do somethin' fun?"

"Mkay, Tol'ert," he agreed. "T'ank ya."

"Yer welcome, baby. C'mon, in ya get."

He gently smacked the back of Bud's head, letting him enter the cabin first.

—

"Hey, you! I wanna know what ya did t' Sam, Paris, an' Jefferson. They won't even look at Bud," Jim laughed as he approached Tolbert, who was sitting on the front porch of his home.

"Who says I did anything?" Tolbert smirked in amusement as Jim sat down beside him.

"_Tolbert, _I know you. Ya said somethin' to 'em," Jim shot him a look.

"A'ight, so a couple of weeks ago, they thought it'd be a good idea t' try t' "fix" Bud's ear. They were hittin' it, yellin' into it, makin' fun of him. So I told 'em they'd best stop 'cause it could easily happen t' them an' that if I ever find out they do anythin' like it again, they won't sit down for a month."

Jim burst into laughter, Tolbert watching Pharmer as he gently shoved Bud, knocking the boy to the ground. Bud had somehow managed to grab on to Pharmer's shirt and take him down with him, Pharmer letting out a shriek. Tolbert couldn't help but laugh at them.

"And what's this 'bout the gossipy busybodies?" Jim managed to get out between laughs.

"Ah, they've been talkin' 'bout me again. T' me, they made it out like I _wanted _them t' die. I didn't want 'em t' die, Jim."

Tolbert's mood became solemn, as did Jim's.

"I know ya didn't, baby," Jim grasped Tolbert's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "None of us did. If we had the choice, we'd have our parents here with us, wouldn't we?"

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded without hesitation. "Mama'd know what t' do, how t' help him get used t' the way his ear is now. I don't know what I'm doin'. I'm just... I'm tryin' my best t' figure it all out. 'S hard, Jim."

"I know it is. I've got two of 'em. They remember them, it's _hard _tellin' them that they're not gonna come back. I hate havin' that conversation with 'em. I can't make them understand that Mama n Poppy aren't gonna come back," Jim admitted, voice thick with emotion. "They — they get these mean streaks where they won't do a thing I say. Never lay a hand on 'em, though, 'cause they jus' tell me I ain't Mama or Poppy n they ain't gonna do somethin' they don't tell them to."

"It's a challenge, huh?"

"Yeah, honey, it's a challenge," he chuckled breathlessly. "But we're slowly gettin' used t' the way it is now. They're little angels most of the time. It's just when they get those mean streaks in 'em an' they don't listen... but we're workin' on it. They're gettin' better 'bout listenin' t' me."

"Bud ain't had a mean streak yet. He does what I tell him to, so I've got that goin' for me at least. I don't even know if he still r'members them. He never says anythin' 'bout 'em."

"Ya gonna ask him?" Jim turned his head toward Tolbert.

"No. I'm too scared t' do that. Scared he might start askin' questions I can't answer. If he remembers them, he'll talk about it eventually."

"An' what're ya gonna do if he thinks you're Poppy?" Jim asked softly.

"I don't know, I haven't really thought about it. I mean, it's crossed my mind a time or two, but with ev'rythin' that's happened, I ain't had the time t' think all this through. Lord knows I love that boy more than anythin' in this world, won't ever lie to him. I've gotta figure out a way t' say it where it'll make sense to him if he ever does say that. Right now, I'm still Tol'ert."

Jim couldn't help but laugh at the way Tolbert mispronounced his own name. He knew that was how the three youngest boys still said it. Tolbert clearly didn't mind it; he let them call him whatever they wanted to.

"What?" Tolbert laughed.

"Nothin', Tol'ert," Jim said teasingly.

"Ah, shut up!"

The two laughed, watching the children run around the yard. Seeing Bud tackle Calvin, Jim shot Tolbert a wary look.

"Should we stop 'em?"

"Did Poppy ever stop us when we were fightin'?" Tolbert retorted.

"No. Not unless it got kinda bad."

"Then that's how we'll do it. Not like they can really hurt each other, Jim."

"Alright."

—

**_October 1869_**

Tolbert's eyes flicked up and met Jim's, the two of them trying to harvest the crops while keeping the boys close to them.

"Bud, honey, no," Tolbert chuckled, bending down to show him how to tie the bundles together, as Bud had insisted on doing something to help. "Look, like this."

Tolbert showed him again, the little boy nodding to show he understood as Tolbert tossed the bundle with the other ones off to the side.

"Here ya go, try again, baby."

Tolbert went back to harvesting, ignoring the look Jim was giving him. He had more important things to worry about than his older brother shooting him a look.

"Like that, Poppy?" Bud spoke up.

Tolbert, who hadn't fully processed what the boy said, glanced down at him.

"Yeah, Buddy. Like that."

"Uh... Bert," Jim murmured, his face pinched.

"What?" Tolbert looked up at him.

"Did you... not hear what he called you?"

"Yeah, he called me Pop—oh no. I'll take care of it later. Right now, we gotta try t' finish this."

Jim nodded, knowing that Tolbert was trying to put it off as long as he could. He couldn't blame him; he wouldn't want to have that conversation either. Especially not with a four-year-old boy who thought he was his father.

—

Tolbert sighed as he carried Bud to his room, tossing him onto the bed and earning a giggle. He swallowed thickly as he sat down on the bed, trying to figure out how he was going to explain it to a four-year-old.

"Do it 'gain, Poppy!" Bud put his hands on his shoulder, still giggling.

"I need t' talk to ya first, baby."

Bud's brows furrowed as he moved to where he sat on Tolbert's lap, peering up at him curiously.

"So... so, uh, y-ya seem t' think that I'm Poppy, and I'm not. I'm not Poppy."

"Yes, y' are."

"No, I'm not. Poppy's gone t' Heaven with Mama."

"Poppy? You're Poppy."

"No, I'm not Poppy. Poppy's not here anymore."

"Why not?"

"'Cause he died not too long ago. It's been a little over two years since he died. Poppy went t' Heaven with Mama. You're here on Earth with me. I'm just your older brother, baby. I'm not Poppy."

"Oh... so's what's I call ya?"

"Tolbert. Tol. Somethin' like that."

"Oh, okay, Tol'ert."

"We'll work on it," Tolbert chuckled breathlessly, kissing his temple. Bud grinned up at him before he laid his head against Tolbert's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

—

**_August 1874_**

"Hey, be careful!" Tolbert called out, hoping the little boy heard him as he ran off with their brothers.

"Ya can't keep him safe forever, Tolbert," Jim laughed as he approached him, clapping a hand on his little brother's shoulder.

"I can try," Tolbert retorted, leaning against the wagon. "Hard t' believe he's gonna be ten in a few months. 'S been seven years since Mama n Poppy died. I really miss 'em, Jim."

"I know, I miss 'em too. I can't believe the boys barely remember who they are. They'll forget 'bout 'em by the time they turn fourteen."

"Bud's already forgot 'em. 'S hard t' explain to him why we have t' keep the cemetery cleared. I wish there was a way he didn't forget. He loved Poppy so much."

"He did, didn't he?" Jim smiled softly. "Reckon he was Poppy's boy, huh? We all know you was Mama's fav'rite."

"I was not," Tolbert rolled his eyes, playfully smacking his older brother. "It's a real shame they won't remember 'em, though. They were such good people."

"That's why they've got us. We're the ones that'll tell 'em about 'em."

"Reckon so," Tolbert murmured.

"Not meanin' t' change the subject, but I haven't heard anythin' said about ya lately. Have they finally stopped?"

"I dunno. I don't really pay any attention to 'em anymore. I focus on the child I'm raising, not the women who haven't liked me my entire life."

Jim snorted and shook his head.

"Be nice, Tolbert."

"That was bein' nice."

Jim suppressed a laugh, watching his younger brother bite down on his lip. He knew that Tolbert was thinking, and he wasn't so sure he wanted to know what he was thinking about.

Tolbert's eyes flicked up when he heard what sounded like Bud, his eyes immediately landing on him as he was dragged in Tolbert's direction by Mrs. White. Tolbert tried to remain calm, tried to give her the benefit of the doubt that she had a reason for it. But he knew Bud better than anyone else and he knew the boy wouldn't ever do something that would result in that.

Bud was released from the woman's grasp. He immediately hid behind Tolbert, his hands grasping the fabric of Tolbert's shirt.

"That boy is as shameless and rude as you are, Tolbert McCoy! Why I've never been so insulted in my life! _You _aren't capable of raising a child properly! I pity any girl who wants to court him when he's older. If he's anything like you, I doubt that will happen, though."

Tolbert's blood boiled.

"Bud's anything but shameless and rude. I don't know what he said or did, but it don't give ya a right t' drag him over here the way ya did. It don't give ya the right t' say what ya said neither. He's got it hard enough as it is, he don't need you addin' to it."

"How could he possibly have it hard?" she scoffed.

"He lost his parents when he was two. He lost his hearin' in his right ear when he was three. It's pretty dang hard on him. I do my best with it, a'ight? I don't need you or anyone else stickin' yer nose in my business. Maybe if ya stopped actin' like yer better than everyone in the valley, people would take what ya say seriously and not disregard it as gossip."

"Well, I see where he got his tongue! You're going to ruin that boy, Tolbert. Ya should've let someone else raise him."

"But I didn't," Tolbert snapped harshly. "Ya ever think that maybe, _just maybe, _ya might be wrong? I'm doin' the best I can, I'm tryin' t' figure it out day by day. I'm not gonna let anybody take him from me. He's all I've got, I ain't gonna lose him 'cause of what you n the rest of the women just like ya think."

Mrs. White harrumphed before storming off, leaving an irritated Tolbert with a frightened Bud and an amused Jim. Tolbert turned around, crouching in front of Bud.

"What happened, baby?" Tolbert softened his tone, brushing Bud's honey-brown hair out of his eyes.

"I — I accidentally bumped into her. She was wearin' a funny hat n I asked her why she was wearin' it. 'S all I did, Tolbert, I swear."

"Well, jus' don't talk to her no more. It ain't worth the trouble, darlin'. She hurt ya?"

"Not too bad. She jus' kinda held ont' my arm real tight."

"I'll look at it when we get home. You a'ight?"

"Mhm," he nodded slightly.

"Good. I'm sorry, baby. If I'd known she was gonna wear a funny hat, I woulda told ya not t' talk t' her 'fore we left."

That coaxed a giggle out of Bud, Tolbert smiling softly and planting a kiss on the boy's cheek.

"Go on now, find the boys n play with 'em."

Bud took off, Tolbert standing upright with a sigh. He caught sight of Jim grinning out of the corner of his eye.

"What?" he demanded, tugging on the hem of his sleeve.

"He's got you wrapped around his little finger," Jim smirked. "I thought I was gonna have t' hold ya back for a minute there."

"Oh, shut up," Tolbert grumbled, pulling his fingers through his ginger curls. "He's goin' through enough without her addin' to it. I don't like that woman. Never have n likely never will."

"Oh, ignore her. Don't let what she says eat you up, Bert. You're doin' a fine job raisin' him."

"Reckon it's all a matter of opinion."

"Hey." Jim stopped him from tugging his sleeve again. "You're doin' great with him. Don't listen t' her. Ya need that boy just as much as he needs you, an' there ain't nobody that's gonna try t' take him away from ya. I've got yer back, Tolbert. Ya've done good with him; he's a good boy, Tol. That's yer doin'."

"Nah. He's jus' got a heart made of gold," Tolbert murmured. "I worry for him. It'd be easy t' hurt 'im."

"They learn what they're taught. He had t' learn from someone, meaning you, 'cause you're the only one he coulda learned it from. Ya've got a good heart, Tolbert. Don't be so dagon hard on yourself."

Tolbert grunted. He didn't know how else to express the way he felt. He'd never thought that she would make a remark about Bud. He was an innocent child that made an innocent remark about a hat she'd been wearing.

But Tolbert wouldn't argue with Jim. Jim was his older brother and he really wasn't in the mood to argue, so he'd leave it at that. Tolbert didn't think he had a good heart, but he wasn't going to argue with him. He had a feeling his response (if you could call it a response) had given Jim the impression that he felt that way, but he didn't care. Tolbert was more concerned about Bud.

"Tol, I know ya got it in yer head that ya ain't a good person with a good heart, but ya are. Yer a very good person with a heart of gold. No one else would do all that ya've done for that boy over there."

"If ya say so," Tolbert shrugged half-heartedly. "Ain't like it matters much anyways. I can't change the way I am. Believe me, Jim, I've tried my hardest t' change the way I am. I don't like it. I try not t' lose my temper with Bud, but it's so hard. 'Specially in days that 're jus' terrible in every way an' I get mad real easy. I hate that he's gotta put up with that, but I need him. I really need him, Jim."

"I know ya do. He needs you, Tolbert. No one else woulda helped him the way you did when he lost hearin' in his bad ear. He really needs you, baby. I couldn't see him livin' with anyone but you."

"I dunno, Jim," Tolbert muttered uncertainly. "There's a lotta times I think he woulda been better off without me. I'm a mess, he don't need someone like me."

"Yeah, he does. He won't even stay at my place, Tolbert, he wants t' be with _you. _He don't want anyone but you."

"Never thought I'd be raisin' a child when I was twenty, but he's a good one. He's perfect the way he is, I don't want him no other way. Bad ear n all."

"Oh God, now ya sound like a proud poppy," Jim groaned exasperatedly, earning a laugh from Tolbert. "Ya've had him for seven years, Tolbert."

A wistful smile appeared on Tolbert's face.

"Seven years... It's almost ridiculous t' think that," Tolbert stated softly. "I'm gonna have t' go tend to the cemetery again. It needs it."

"Worry about that t'morrow. Right now, have fun."

Tolbert huffed in amusement and shook his head. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a little fun.

—

"Shirt off, Buddy. Let's make sure she didn't hurt ya too bad."

Bud took his shirt off and allowed his older brother to examine his right arm. Tolbert gently ran his fingertips over the boy's upper arm, as that was how she'd grabbed him and dragged him over to Tolbert, and sighed in relief. It was bruised, but there was nothing more than that to worry about.

"Just a bruise," Tolbert assured him with a smile. "You wanna sleep in one of my shirts t'night?"

"Please," Bud murmured. Tolbert stood and moved to the foot of the bed, opening the chest and grabbing a blue shirt. He handed it to Bud, who thanked him before changing into it.

"Ya sleepin' in here t'night?"

"Y' don't care?" Bud blinked, padding over to his older brother, who had taken off his shirt.

"No, I don't care, darlin'. Why would I?"

"I dunno. Figured y' might think 'm too old t' sleep in here wit'cha."

"You'll never be too old t' sleep in here if ya want to," Tolbert told him, pulling off his undershirt.

"Mean it?" Bud leaned against his leg, peering up at him innocently.

"Yeah, I mean it. Ya can sleep in here if ya want to, I don't care how old ya are. I ain't gonna tell ya no. You're like my baby," Tolbert teased lightheartedly, scratching his scalp. Bud giggled.

Tolbert got in bed, watching his baby brother climb on it and move beside him. Tolbert laid down and adjusted the blanket, letting Bud curl up against him.

"Tol... will ya tell me 'bout them?" Bud requested, shifting slightly to get more comfortable.

"Mama n Poppy?" Tolbert queried, just to make sure he was correct with his assumption.

"Mhm."

"Yeah, baby. I'll tell ya 'bout 'em."

—

**_November 1876_**

Bud knew, logically, that he shouldn't have believed what the women Tolbert always avoided said to him. Yet he couldn't stop himself from believing it. He couldn't help but believe that Tolbert didn't want or need him, that he didn't love him, and that he was only taking care of him because he felt like he had to.

It had dampened the boy's good mood and now, sitting beside Tolbert as he drove them home, he wished that everything was different.

"Are you alright?" Tolbert questioned, glancing at him.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. Yer awful quiet."

"Jus' don't feel like talkin'," Bud murmured lamely, giving a half-hearted shrug.

Tolbert's eyes flicked over to him again, sighing at the expression on the boy's face. He wasn't sure why Bud looked like he'd heard something terribly shocking that had shattered his heart, but Tolbert knew better than to press him on the matter. Bud was like him — he wouldn't talk until he was ready to, and the more he pressed, the more Bud would refuse to talk about it.

He'd give him a day or two before he asked again. With any luck, Bud was just in a mood and didn't want to be bothered.

—

Each year after the fall harvest, Tolbert cleared the fields to prepare for the next season. He'd been out in the fields when Bud came home from school much earlier than he was supposed to, his face reddened with his lip split and his nose bleeding. Tolbert's eyes flicked down to his hands, spotting a folded piece of paper and the boy's busted knuckles.

"An' what're you doin' home so early?" Tolbert asked nonchalantly, wiping the sweat off of his brow as he stood upright.

"She sent me home," he grumbled.

"What for?" Tolbert pressed.

"Got in a fight wit' William Hatfield," Bud huffed. "If Pharmer woulda stayed outta it, I coulda won it, too!"

"Bud, what're ya doin' gettin' in fights?"

"It wouldn't've been a fight if he woulda kept his mouth shut," Bud snapped. Tolbert blinked. He'd never had Bud snap at him like that before. "I told him t' stop n he didn't, so I punched him. Pharmer said I prob'ly broke his nose."

"Bud," Tolbert sighed tiredly. "What could Will Hatfield possibly say that would get ya so mad?"

"He kept sayin' stuff 'bout you."

"Well, I appreciate ya takin' up for me n all, but I'd prefer it if ya didn't get in trouble. C'mon, let's go clean ya up."

Tolbert wrapped an arm around his shoulders, glancing down at him. Bud's eyes flicked up and Tolbert noticed the same gleam that had been prominent the day before. Something was bothering Bud and he wasn't willing to say anything about it just yet.

Reaching the cabin, Tolbert opened the door and let him go in first. Tolbert stepped inside and closed the door, mumbling to himself under his breath as he gathered what he needed.

"You're not mad, are ya?" Bud asked nervously.

"Can't very well get mad at ya when I did the same thing," Tolbert replied. "'Cept I was eight when I did it. Jim taught me all I needed t' know n that was that. I don't think Poppy ever really found out 'bout it. He was gone t' war when it happened."

"Oh..."

"An' really, he hadn't been back very long when he died. Two years. That was how long he'd been back. Two years, five months, an' six days. When he came back... he had you. You were his baby boy n he loved ya more than anythin'. Mama always swore he was spoilin' ya, holdin' ya every time ya cried or so much as whimpered, but he didn't care what she said. I think ya kept him sane, if I'm honest with ya. He saw a lotta things he wanted to forget when he was in war."

"How ya know that?" Bud quirked a brow.

"'Cause he told me so. Sat me down right after I turned thirteen n told me all 'bout it. Told me that war changes a man n that there are diff'rent kinds of wars. Some are like the war that happened 'tween north n south, some are like these feuds that go on 'tween two or three diff'rent families. I'm thankful we ain't in no war."

"But... but wait, why can't — I don't understand, people try t' kill each other? Entire _families?_"

"Feudin' is diff'rent. Women usually don't get involved much, just avoid t' other's fam'ly n don't speak to 'em none, but the menfolk? Now they get involved. Fistfights, gunfights, knife fights, any type o' fight ya can think of, really. They're horrible things, Buddy. I'm real thankful we ain't involved in nothin' like that. 'M not sure we'd be able t' handle it wit'out Poppy."

"Tell me more about him," Bud said swiftly, wincing when Tolbert started to clean the wounds.

"Poppy... he was amazin', baby. Always knew exactly what t' say n what t' do, no matter what the situation was. He taught me a lotta things, even broke the tradition of waitin' 'til I was fourteen t' give me a gun. I got my first gun when I was twelve an' Poppy taught me how t' shoot it. He taught me that the right thing ain't always the easiest thing, an' that ya gotta stand up for what's right. He taught me there ain't nothin' wrong with a boy showin' his feelin's either. Boys cry jus' the same as girls do."

Tolbert gently wiped the blood off of Bud's face, his features softening as he reminisced.

"You were five months old when Poppy came home from war. My God, I won't ever forget the way he looked. I ain't ever seen Poppy look that way. His hair was real long n it was all knotted n matted, he was filthy, his clothes were torn. But it was _Poppy. _He'd aged a bit since the last time I'd seen him — he said the Yankees done it. I reckon they did since he'd been held in one of their prison camps.

"Mama had me take him inside while she finished up the chores. We'd left you inside 'cause ya was jus' a baby, didn't want ya gettin' hurt or anythin' like that, an' ya'd started cryin' the second the door opened. So I got ya n changed ya, then took ya over t' Poppy, who'd sat down at the table, 'bout where you're sittin' now. He cried when he held ya. Said ya was like a little angel. Poppy loved you an' you loved him. You was his fav'rite."

"Really?" Bud blinked. It was hard to fathom him being anyone's favorite.

"Mhm," Tolbert hummed, rubbing some type of ointment on his busted knuckles. "You're his namesake n his baby boy. An' God, would he be proud of ya, Buddy. Poppy'd be right proud of ya if he was still alive. So would Mama. She used t' call all of us baby. I reckon that's why I call you baby so often... It keeps her alive, in a funny sort of way."

Tolbert wrapped Bud's knuckles and sighed before he allowed his eyes to flick up and meet his baby brother's.

"They'd be right proud of ya if they were still alive, darlin'. I wish they were. Been a long nine years without 'em."

"'Cause o' me?"

"No, baby, not 'cause of you. We've worked through all this on our own, ain't we? Jus' goes t' show that we're jus' fine on our own."

"I reckon," Bud mumbled. "But my ear... when it went bad, it took s' long for ya t' figure out what t' do."

"'Cause I'd never been in that kind of situation. I didn't know what I was supposed t' do when it came t' helpin' ya get used t' yer bad ear, honey. It's not that it had anythin' t' do with you specifically, but it was a diff'rent situation that I'd never seen before. Everything I've done, in some way, goes back t' Mama n Poppy; what I remember 'bout how they raised me n the rest of our brothers and sisters. We'd never had that happen before so I had t' figure it out on my own."

"Oh. Y' ever regret raisin' me?" Bud asked timidly.

"No! Where would ya get an idea like that?" Tolbert exclaimed, eyes widened as he gazed at the boy.

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Jus' thought I'd ask."

"I don't regret raisin' you. I don't regret it at all, baby. Jim's always makin' fun of me 'cause I sound like a proud poppy every time you come up in a conversation. Ya mean the world t' me, Buddy. You might as well be my son. I ain't really your poppy, but that don't matter none. I've been a poppy to ya most of yer life. An' sure, there's been times I didn't know what the heck I was doin' an' I got scared, but I never once regretted takin' you."

"Get a awful lot of scorn 'cause of me."

"It's not you specifically. It's more the way I raise ya n what I let ya do. See, I don't care so long as ya don't start no trouble. And with what happened t'day, well, I don't think it'd do me any good t' take a belt to ya. Ya'd do it again even if I did wear you out. An' in all fairness, ya did give him a warning."

"So... so 'm not in trouble? At all?"

"No, you're not in trouble. Ya stood your ground, I'm quite proud of ya for that. I've always tried t' teach ya t' do what you think is right. Did ya think it was right when ya did it?"

"Yeah."

"Then see, I can't get mad at ya for doin' what I've told ya t' do, now can I?"

"Reckon not."

"_Definitely _not. I can't make a promise I won't ever get mad at ya for doin' somethin' ya think is right, but I can promise I'll do my best not t' get mad at ya. Now, what d'ya say we get somethin' t' eat 'fore headin' back out t' the fields, hm?"

Bud nodded. He could agree to that.

—

Tolbert wasn't sure why Bud was as angry as he was. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen the boy look as angry as he did now, and he was doing his best to figure out _why _he was angry.

"Oh my God, leave me alone!"

"All I did was ask—"

"I know what ya did! I just want t' be left alone! I hate you!"

Tolbert blinked, a sharp sting appearing in his chest. Bud stormed out, his shoulder hitting Tolbert's arm as he stormed toward the staircase. He raced up the stairs and stomped down the hall, slamming the door to his room, causing Tolbert to flinch.

Tolbert's vision blurred, leaning against the counter, a shaky breath passing through his lips. He didn't know why it hurt so much. He should've known that it was impossible for anybody to love him; Tolbert was insufferable and impossible to love. He didn't know why he thought Bud would be any different.

He sniffled and stood upright, going to his parents' room and closing the door behind him. Tolbert hadn't been in this room in years. He opened the chest he'd pushed against the wall, taking out one of his father's shirts before he made his way over to the bed, lying down on it and clutching the shirt to his chest, a sob tearing from his throat.

—

Two weeks later, Tolbert had baked Bud's favorite type of cookies. He was hoping to at least make it tolerable for Bud — he'd been told that he hated him every day that week and each day, it had gotten worse. Tolbert never cried in front of him; he tried his hardest to keep from showing that it bothered him at all.

He sighed as he pulled a loaf of bread out of the oven, his eyes flicking toward the door as it opened. Jim stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he moved toward him.

"You mind if I sit by the fire?"

"No," Tolbert responded. "Go 'head. Gotta warn ya, though, Bud should be gettin' done with his chores. Bud's been actin' diff'rent lately, but uh, it ain't necessarily a good diff'rent. I'm sorry if he... acts diff'rent than usual."

"Tolbert? Honey, you okay?"

"Fine, Jim," Tolbert waved it off.

"What d'ya mean if he acts different than usual?" Jim pressed.

"You'll see when he comes in," Tolbert said quickly. "He's just... actin' a little diff'rent lately."

"Are ya sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Jim. Just... don't say anything when he comes in. You'll see what I mean."

Jim sighed and shifted in the chair he'd sat down in. Tolbert was acting strange and he couldn't figure out why.

Tolbert looked up as the back door opened, Bud stepping inside.

"Hey, baby. I've got some—"

"I don't care what you've got!" Bud interrupted rudely. "I hate you!"

Bud shoved Tolbert, causing him to stumble.

"I wish you woulda died instead of them!" He shoved him again, Tolbert grunting as his back hit the counter. "_I hate you!_"

"I know ya do, baby," Tolbert whispered.

Bud didn't say anything; he only stormed toward the staircase. Tolbert flinched when the boy slammed his door shut, sighing before he shook his head and wiped at his eyes.

"I don't know why I'm cryin'. I should be used to it by now," Tolbert laughed weakly.

"Tolbert... what the heck was that?"

"Bud. He's been that way for about two weeks now. I don't know what I did to him, I can't get him t' talk t' me! I don't know what I did, Jim."

"Hey, don't cry, it's alright," Jim rushed, getting up and hurrying over to Tolbert. He pulled him into a hug, letting his little brother cry into his shoulder.

"I don't know what I did t' him. I can't — I can't tell him he's wrong for feelin' the way he does. I can't tell him how t' feel n I've always told him it was okay t' show how he felt. I've just — I've gotta get used to it. 'S fine, he can hate me if he wants to."

Tolbert pulled away and slouched against the counter, sniffling as he tugged at his sleeves.

"Tolbert, what's goin' on? When'd he start actin' that way?"

"'Bout two weeks ago, like I said. Same day he got thrown outta school for fightin' wit' Will Hatfield."

"And ya never thought t' bring it up over the last two weeks?"

"What for? T' prove that I can't even raise a child? He hates me, that's all there is to it. I've done somethin' wrong again and he hates me."

"I dunno, Tolbert," Jim sighed heavily. "Bud's always loved you. I doubt ya could do somethin' that would make him hate you."

"Clearly I did," Tolbert retaliated, his voice taking an edge to it. "He won't even listen t' me anymore. I baked those stupid cookies hopin' I'd be able t' make him a little happy. I never shoulda took him in, I shoulda just let you take him after they died. God knows I'm not the type of person who needs t' be raisin' chil'ren."

"Tolbert, you need that boy. And he needs you. You've raised him t' be a good boy, Bert. What more do ya want?"

Tolbert shook his head and lowered his gaze, tears falling onto his pale face as he tried to suppress them.

"I don't know," he muttered quietly. "I don't want this. I don't want him screamin' that he hates me n wishes I was dead every time he sees me. I don't want him t' think he's wrong for hatin' me either. He's not. Lotta people in this valley hates me... Never thought my baby brother'd turn out t' be one of 'em."

"Tolbert, what if he don't really hate ya? What if he's just tryin' t' push ya away or hide somethin' from ya?"

"Why would he do that?! I never get mad at him! I've learned to control it around him, there's no reason for him t' hide anything from me!"

"Maybe it's not somethin' that you did. Maybe it's somethin' else, somethin' that makes him think he's got ta push ya 'way or hide it from ya."

Tolbert was still tugging on his sleeve. Jim had noticed that it seemed to be a nervous mannerism that Tolbert had. Tolbert only did it when he was distressed. And if Jim was to be honest, he'd tried everything he could think of to get Tolbert to stop pulling at his clothes. Nothing had worked, though, so Jim supposed it was something that Tolbert would do for the rest of his life.

"I don't know why. I've never given him a reason t' think he's gotta push me away from him or hide somethin' from me," Tolbert said softly, his voice trembling. "It's just... not the same anymore, Jim. Every time I try t' talk to him, he does that. Don't matter what I say to him, could be as simple as _hello, _he does that. An' it _hurts. _I've tried my dagon best t' raise him, tried t' make him a good person, tried t' keep him from hatin' me like ev'ryone else does. It didn't work."

"What're you talkin' about? Bud's a good person n he loves you."

"Nah," Tolbert shook his head. "It's alright if he hates me. I can't say I blame him for it. I've not been the person he needs."

"Tolbert—"

"I'm not the person he needs!" Tolbert shouted, cutting him off. "Don't ya sit here n lie t' me! _I'm not the person Bud needs. _He needs someone that's much better and more stable than me. I swear, Jim, I'm goin' crazy!"

"You're not goin' crazy. You're tired, you're stressed. Ya've been thinkin' 'bout nothin' but this for two weeks an' ya haven't told a soul about it until now. Ya've been dealin' with this on your own n it's hard on ya."

"I should be able t' deal with it on my own—"

"There's nothin' wrong with needin' help, Tolbert. Sometimes ya need help."

Tolbert looked like he was on the verge of tears again. His ice-blue eyes met Jim's, showing his older brother just how much he was hurting. While Jim could tell he was hurting by the expression on his face, his eyes held a deeper pain that made Jim's heart break for him.

Tolbert averted his gaze, biting down harshly on his lip. He couldn't tell Bud that he was wrong for feeling the way that he did; he couldn't tell Bud that it was wrong to hate him. Tolbert understood that it was practically impossible to love him, that he was the type of person people usually feared and avoided. It was just going to take him a while to get used to Bud hating him.

"What happened? What got all this started?" Jim pressed, trying to figure out why their baby brother would act such a way.

"I don't know," Tolbert whispered brokenly. "He was all mad n I asked him why he was mad, an' he bit my head off. Told me he hated me. I went in Mama n Poppy's room after he did that... hadn't been in there in years. I grabbed one of Poppy's shirts out of his chest and laid on the bed n just _cried. _I don't know why I'm shocked. I'm not the type of person people enjoy gettin' around."

"'Cause they don't care t' get t' know ya. You're a wonderful person, Tolbert. Ya've gotta believe me, baby. You're absolutely amazing."

"I'm not," Tolbert denied, shaking his head. "I'm terrible, I know I am. Ya just... don't understand it. Ya can never understand it. Ya've always been a good person with a good heart; never had people run from ya 'cause of what other people say 'bout ya. Yer nothin' like me, Jim. Ya wouldn't understand it."

"Tolbert, listen t' me, baby. Ya've got t' stop bein' so dagon hard on yourself. You're a good person, a good poppy. That's what ya are, Bert, you're a poppy t' that twelve-year-old boy upstairs. You are amazing. Ya only think you're terrible 'cause ya don't see yourself the way I see ya. I can't change the way ya see yourself, but ya can't change the way I see ya neither. I'm proud of the man ya turned out t' be. You're a good man, Tolbert McCoy. Ya might be hot-headed moron most of the time, but that don't mean ya ain't a good man."

Tolbert spluttered a laugh, his eyes flicking up again.

"Thanks, I reckon. Would you... mind comin' with me while I try t' talk t' him? I'm hopin' he won't lash out the way he usually does if he sees that you're here."

Jim nodded.

"Yeah, I'll go up with ya when ya try t' talk to him. Give him some time t' calm down a little first. Sit down, drink a cup of coffee or somethin'. You both need t' calm down b'fore ya even try speakin' t' each other."

Tolbert nodded mutely, grabbing a mug and the coffee pot.

"You want some coffee?" Tolbert glanced over his shoulder at Jim.

"Sure," he shrugged.

Tolbert passed him the mug in his hands and grabbed another, pouting himself a cup before he took a seat at the table.

"It wouldn't be this way if Mama n Poppy were alive," Tolbert said suddenly, causing Jim to look up at him. "It would be diff'rent. If Mama n Poppy were alive, I wouldn't've got around him at all. He don't need someone like me, Jim."

"That boy up there wouldn't know what t' do without ya, Tolbert. He trusts you. He loves you more than anyone else. He won't even stay at my place, Bert. He wants t' be here with you."

"He hasn't here lately," Tolbert mumbled. "I'm _tryin',_ Jim. I'm tryin' so hard t' do all this right, but I have no idea if it's right or wrong. I jus'... oh God, Jim, I don't know what I did wrong."

"Hey, hey, breathe, baby." Tolbert drew in a strangled breath. "There ya go. Calm down. You've gotta calm down 'fore ya go up there, Tolbert."

"A'ight. So — so how's Cal n Pharmer?"

—

Bud sniffled as he turned onto his side, pressing his good ear against his pillow. He'd gone out of his room shortly after he slammed the door and had overheard most of Tolbert and Jim's conversation.

_He was making it worse._

Bud knew that he shouldn't wish Tolbert would still love him. Tolbert hated him, he knew he did. Why would they lie to him?

He wiped furiously at his eyes, bringing his hand back down and tugging at his sleeve. Bud was aware that he did it anytime he felt overwhelmed; that every time he was distressed in some way, he was tugging at his sleeve. He didn't know why he did it and he didn't care enough to figure it out. All he knew was that he kept tugging at his sleeves and his clothes no matter what the situation was.

Tolbert was the one person Bud completely depended on. He needed Tolbert more than anyone else, and he wouldn't have cared to admit it if he wasn't busy trying to push him away. Bud needed him, but he knew that Tolbert didn't want him. He only took him in because he felt like he had to.

Bud chewed on his lower lip, staring at his sleeve through bleary vision as he tugged on it. He needed to stop pulling at his clothes, he knew he did, but he couldn't make himself stop. He bit down on his lip harshly as he made a small noise in the back of his throat, his breath hitching.

What was the matter with him?

Bud gasped and jerked his head back when Tolbert crouched down in front of him. He sat up, slowly moving away from his older brother.

_No, no, no, _he couldn't be there. He could see Jim in his peripheral vision and wondered momentarily if Tolbert was going to throw him out. He wouldn't know what to do if Tolbert admitted that he didn't want him. Bud needed him.

But Bud wouldn't force him to get around him if he didn't want to. He'd been trying so hard to keep his distance, trying to keep Tolbert happy. He didn't want Tolbert to hate him too badly. He didn't want any of this at all, really. He wanted it to be the way it had been before he'd spoken to Mrs. White and the rest of the church women. But they knew what they were talking about, didn't they? They knew that Tolbert didn't want him, that he was taking care of him because he felt obligated to, that Tolbert didn't love him.

"Bud? Ya listenin' t' me, honey?"

He slowly nodded. He would listen to him.

Jim, standing in the doorway, noticed that Bud was tugging at his sleeve. It was the same exact thing Tolbert did and Jim let out a breath, realizing the two were more alike than he'd originally thought.

"Can I sit here?"

Bud nodded again, allowing Tolbert to sit on the edge of his bed. Tolbert sighed as he gazed at him, hesitantly reaching out and placing his hand on top of Bud's, stopping him from pulling at his sleeve. Bud's throat constricted as his gaze snapped down to the bed, deciding it would be best if he didn't look at him.

Neither one of them said anything for a moment. Tolbert was trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say while Bud was focused on avoiding his older brother's gaze.

"Buddy... _God, _baby, I don't know what I did, but I'm so sorry. Will ya please tell me what I did?" Tolbert implored, cautiously taking hold of Bud's hand and rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

"'S n-not what you did," Bud forced out.

"Then what is it, Buddy? What happened?"

"Y' don't want me," he stated softly, his brows pinching together. "Y' only took me in 'cause ya felt like y' had to. Ya don't love me."

Tolbert felt like the wind had been knocked out of him as his heart shattered in his chest. How could Bud ever think something like that?

"Oh my God," he breathed, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "Where'd ya get an idea like that?"

"Mrs. White n them," Bud murmured, hanging his head low. "'S okay if ya don't. I'll try t' stay 'way n won't bother ya none."

"What? No, baby, no. Look at me." Tolbert gently grabbed the boy's face, forcing him to look at him. "None of what they said is true, Randolph McCoy, Junior. Why wouldn't I want you? You're amazing, darlin'. I've never felt like I _had _t' take you in — I _wanted _t' take you in. Ask Jim, I fought with him over ya when I first took ya in. I love ya, baby. I love ya more than I should, probably, but I don't care. You're my baby, I love you."

"'M sorry for what I said," Bud said quickly, sniffling and wiping at his nose with his sleeve. "I didn't mean it. I don't wish ya were dead!"

Bud moved and threw his arms around Tolbert's neck, burying his face in his brother's shoulder. Tolbert held him, pulling his fingers through the boy's thick locks of brunette hair, letting him cry into his shoulder.

And now that Tolbert knew why Bud had been acting the way he was, it all made sense to him. He should have known that they would have something to do with it; they'd never approved of Tolbert raising Bud, had often tried to discourage him or convince him to give Bud to someone else.

They'd often poked fun at Bud over his ear as well, as had several other people, and Tolbert never cared to tell them exactly what he thought of them when they did it. He didn't care to put them in their place when they got out of line with Bud. If they wanted to berate Bud, Tolbert would berate them.

"Hey, you're okay," Tolbert cooed, pressing a kiss to the boy's temple. "Easy, honey, easy. Ya gotta breathe."

Bud drew in a sharp, wheezing breath.

"You're okay, baby. It's alright. It's okay, shh... You're okay, Buddy."

"I—I didn't m-mean no ha-harm!"

"I know, baby. It's alright. Calm down a little, it's okay, baby. Ev'rything's okay, Bud. They have a way of convincin' ya that what they say is true. All ya had t' do was ask me, Buddy. Ya know I won't ever lie to ya."

"I didn't wanna know," he admitted, clinging tightly to Tolbert. He moved his head to Tolbert's left shoulder so he could hear him better. "I didn't — I was s' scared. I didn't wanna know."

"What makes ya think I could hate you?" Tolbert smoothed Bud's hair back, ignoring the way he blanched.

"I dunno... jus' thought ya might."

"I couldn't hate ya if I tried, Buddy. I love ya too much for that."

"I love you. I love you so much."

"Hey, it's okay. Even if ya do end up hatin' me, I'm always gonna love ya n be here for ya. 'Cause let me tell ya somethin', honey, I'm not the kinda person people like t' be around. And if ya grow up n find ya don't wanna be 'round me, that's okay. I want ya t' always be honest with me, baby. Even if it's somethin' like that. Just... please don't lie t' me."

"I won't."

"Good. I worry about ya, Bud. You didn't — you didn't get t' grow up with them like I did. You're just... God, you're different. But it's a good different. I love you."

Tolbert pressed a lingering kiss to the boy's forehead. Bud pulled his arms back and wrapped them around Tolbert's middle, shifting to get more comfortable before he nuzzled against Tolbert's neck. Tolbert chuckled softly, playing with Bud's hair.

"Please stay?" Bud peered up at him.

"Yeah, I'll stay."

"I don't wan' ya t' go," Bud muffled against Tolbert's shoulder. "I want ya t' stay here."

"I'm goin' to, baby. How 'bout we lay down, hm? I know that ain't comfortable."

Bud nodded mutely, agreeing to his idea. He moved, letting Tolbert lay down before he curled up against him, his good ear pressed to Tolbert's chest. He closed his eyes and listened to Tolbert's steady heartbeat, his arms wrapping around his middle again.

Tolbert wrapped one arm around Bud, using his free hand to rub his baby brother's cheek, watching him as he hummed and scooted as close as he could possibly get. Tolbert's eyes flicked up and met Jim's.

"Well, I think you two have worked through this squabble, so I'll be on my way," Jim remarked, smiling at the two.

"A'ight, Jim. Thank you."

"I didn't do anything. Yer the one that's his poppy."

Tolbert shot him an unamused look.

"I'll see ya later, Tolbert."

—

"Tol... d'you ever regret takin' me in?"

Tolbert looked down at the boy, yawning.

"No. Takin' you in was the best thing I've ever done, why would I regret it?"

"I dunno," he shrugged innocently. "Figured ya might. Ya didn't want a child at thirteen."

"Maybe not, but I don't regret takin' ya in. I love ya a whole lot, Buddy. I'm never gonna regret you."

"Y' sure?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Tolbert replied without hesitation. "You're the best thing that happened to me. Ya helped me a lot after they died. They just... they meant so much t' me an' they died so suddenly... It's the most horrible feelin' in the world, receivin' word like that. T' make it worse, the lady that told us was hard t' understand. She was talkin' real fast n it was all a stuttered mess. _God, _I'll never forget that."

Bud craned his neck and looked up at him, noticing that Tolbert was on the verge of tears.

"Please don't cry," Bud whispered. "I don't want ya t' cry."

"I'm not cryin'," Tolbert said swiftly, wiping at his eyes.

"Ya look like yer goin' to," Bud countered.

"I'm not. I'm okay."

"You always tell me it's okay t' not be okay."

"It's been nearly ten years, Bud. I'm fine."

"Does it ever scare ya? Things that people say to ya?" he clarified before shifting ever so slightly.

"Mhm. I've been scared the last two weeks," Tolbert admitted. "I thought I was gonna lose ya. I don't know why I didn't think of the possibility that Mrs. White had said somethin' to ya, an' I'm sorry for that. It woulda been a lot easier if I'd thought of it and brought it up."

"Don't matter none. 'S okay now."

Tolbert huffed in amusement.

"Yeah... it's okay now."

—

**_January 1878_**

"What is wrong with you?!" Tolbert shouted. "Do ya not understand that's how we're _livin'?! _I have t' sell the 'shine I make so we can live right now!"

"I—I'm sorry!" Bud exclaimed, his back hitting the wall. "Please don't get mad! I'm so sorry, I didn't—"

"_Don't get mad?_" Tolbert repeated incredulously. "I do my dagon best not t' lose my temper around you, but this is completely different! I can't make the deliveries if I don't have the 'shine t' deliver! Ya know what happens when I don't make the dang deliveries?"

Bud slowly shook his head, swallowing thickly as he watched Tolbert inch closer to him.

"It means we have no dagon money!" Tolbert slammed his hand on the table, causing Bud to flinch. "And if we don't have money, we can't live. I can't buy what we need without that money, Bud!"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I'll — I'll fix it, I swear I will!"

"Why didn't ya listen t' me?"

"I didn't hear ya, I swear, I didn't! Don't hurt me, please," Bud pleaded, not daring to move from his spot against the wall. "I didn't mean to, I swear. I just... I lost my balance. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, you know I ain't gonna hurt you!" Tolbert snapped. "Might want to 'cause ya blew up my dagon still, but I ain't goin' to. It's fine, we'll be fine, we'll find another way t' make money 'til I can get ev'rythin' I need t' make a new one."

"I'm so sorry," Bud whispered tearfully. "I didn't mean to."

Tolbert sighed tiredly, walking over to him and pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Don't worry about it. We'll make it. Nonono, don't cry — oh God, I didn't mean t' lose my temper with ya. I'm sorry, baby. Please don't cry. It's just... I thought ya heard me, honey. I thought ya heard me when I said t' watch out for the hole behind ya."

"I didn't, I'm sorry, I swear I'll fix it," Bud rambled nervously.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Buddy. Breathe for me." Bud drew in a breath, biting down on his lip before he started to tug at his sleeve. "What're ya doin' that for?"

"What?"

"Pullin' your sleeve."

"I dunno, jus' a habit, I guess," Bud shrugged. Tolbert noticed how timid he was, but he didn't comment on it. Bud just needed some time to calm himself down.

He continued to tug at his sleeve, Tolbert bringing his hand up and placing it over Bud's.

"You're alright. It's okay. We'll just build a new one."

"I am so sorry," Bud whispered softly, lowering his gaze. "I didn't mean no harm. Didn't mean t' knock into it n blow it up. I'm real sorry, Tol."

"I know ya are," Tolbert assured him with a small smile. "It's a'ight. Why don't ya go on upstairs, hm? 'S been a long day for us both."

"A'ight. I'm really sorry."

"I know you are. Go on, baby, get some rest."

Bud nodded and headed toward the staircase, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He only hoped he hadn't caused too much trouble.

—

**_February 1878_**

Tolbert sighed as he placed a plate in front of Bud, seeing the boy's bewildered expression.

"What?"

"Ain't you gonna eat?"

"No, baby. I'm not very hungry right now," he forced a tight smile.

"Ya didn't eat wit' me yesterday neither. Ya said the same thing, too."

"I know. I'll eat later, I promise." Tolbert bent down and pressed a kiss to the boy's cheek. "I'm gonna go get some firewood. If ya want more an' I ain't in here, it's on the stove. I've gotta split the wood, so I'll be out for a few minutes. You alright with that?"

"Yeah," Bud nodded swiftly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, darlin'." Tolbert ruffled the boy's hair before making his way to the door, pulling it open and stepping out into the cold winter air. He closed it and shivered, heading toward the barn so he could grab the ax before going out back to split wood.

Tolbert tried to ignore the discomfort he felt due to the pain in his stomach. He wasn't an idiot, he knew why his stomach was hurting, but he'd found a way to let Bud believe that everything was fine with them and he certainly wasn't going to ruin it when he'd just gotten the boy to stop apologizing every five minutes.

Tolbert was just going to have to deal with it until he could rebuild his still and make money again. He felt horrible for lying to Bud; Bud was the one person Tolbert never lied to. And now that he was starting to, he felt absolutely terrible for it.

He released a shaky breath, grabbing the ax before heading out back. He placed a piece of wood on the block and swung it, splitting it in half.

"Tolbert?"

Tolbert whipped around, finding Bud.

"What're you doin' out here? Yer supper's gonna get cold."

"I don't care. I... You are eatin', right?" Bud queried, pulling his coat around him tightly.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. Ya never eat with me anymore."

"I'm just busy, Bud. I promise I'll eat later, okay?"

"But Tolbert—"

"But nothin'," Tolbert cut him off, but not unkindly. "Go on in now. I'll be in there in a minute or so."

"Okay," Bud murmured, defeated, turning and heading back inside.

—

Sunday meeting seemed longer than usual that week. Tolbert wasn't sure why, but it did, and he'd encouraged Bud to run off with Pharmer and Calvin for a little while.

Leaning against the wagon, Tolbert dragged his hand down his face, licking his chapped lips as Jim approached him.

"What's the matter with you?" Jim asked immediately.

"Whaddaya mean?" Tolbert decided to play dumb, hoping Jim would drop the subject.

"Yer awful pale. Ya feelin' poorly or somethin'?"

"No," Tolbert shook his head. "Just... didn't sleep well last night."

"Tolbert, that was a terrible lie," Jim deadpanned.

"Don't worry about it," Tolbert shook his head. "I'm a'ight."

"Ya don't look a'ight," Jim countered.

"Is there a certain way I have t' look now?" Tolbert lashed out before he thought the better of it. Realizing what he'd said, he quickly apologized. "Sorry, sorry. It was a long day yesterday n I really didn't sleep well last night."

"What's really wrong with ya? I know you, Tolbert McCoy, and this is not you."

"I'm jus' tired, Jim. I'll be fine once I get some sleep t'night."

Jim shot him a skeptical look. Tolbert paid no mind to him, his eyes landing on Mrs. White, who gave a "hmph!" before turning her nose upward and walking away. He waited until she was out of earshot to speak.

"I have never liked that woman."

"She ain't ever gave ya a reason to," Jim grumbled. "I can't stand people who think they're better than ev'rybody else."

"Easy now, Jim. We don't need you losin' yer temper in the churchyard," Tolbert jested, earning a playful smack to the side of his head.

"Won't you shut up," he laughed.

"Nah. Ain't no fun in that."

—

The next day, Jim, Calvin, and Pharmer had stopped by shortly after Bud went upstairs for the night. Tolbert wasn't sure why he was so fidgety. He caught himself tugging on his sleeve and tried to force himself to stop by putting his hands at his sides, only to subconsciously raise them again and do it.

"What're ya so nervous for?" Jim quirked a brow.

"I don't know," he murmured. "What're you doin' here?"

"_Well, _we were up 'round your still. Or what's left of it. What happened to it?"

"Bud lost his balance n knocked into it. Blew it up."

"When?"

"Sometime last month. Can't r'member the exact day. Please don't mention it around him? I jus' got him t' stop apologizin' for it."

"I won't." Jim turned toward the boys. "Why don't ya go see if he's still awake an' talk with him a while?"

They nodded and hurried up the stairs.

"Tolbert, how've ya been makin' money?"

"I ain't," he answered quietly. "I mean, I had a few people who paid for the last delivery last month, the one from D'cember, 'cause I didn't have the chance t' make it for last month. Bud don't know that, though. He thinks ev'rything's alright an' I plan on keepin' it that way."

"Bert, you been eatin'?"

"Yeah," he lied, nodding slightly.

"_Bert,_" Jim shot him a scolding look.

"What?"

"Don't lie t' me. Ya know that I know when ya lie t' me. Don't try t' lie t' me. Why ain't you been eatin'?"

"We can't make it that way," Tolbert admitted softly. "He's a boy, he needs all he can get. I'm alright. It's jus' for a little while."

"Tolbert, I can understand not wantin' t' tell Bud about it, but there's a fine line b'tween not wantin' to and needin' to. Ya've got t' eat, Tolbert."

"I'm fine, Jim," he huffed irritably. "Ya didn't see him the day he knocked into it n blew it up. He was scared o' me. Ya didn't hear him the next few days, constantly askin' if we were gonna be okay. He doesn't need t' know. As far as he's concerned, everything is normal."

"How d'ya get out of eatin', Tol?"

"I tell him I either ate earlier or I'll eat later. He don't need t' know there ain't enough for both of us," Tolbert breathed a laugh, lowering his gaze to the floor. "It's okay. We're okay. I've just — I've got t' get the new still runnin' 'fore I can make any money. I've almost got it built. He's helped a lot. I won't tell him no 'cause I know why he wants t' help build it. He might not be apologizin' anymore, but he still feels bad over it."

"Ya can't go on forever without eatin', Tolbert. It's gonna be noticeable soon enough."

"Nah," he shook his head. "We'll be back t' normal by then."

"Would you at least agree t' come t' my place for supper one day this week?"

"I don't need charity."

"It's not charity, Tolbert. I'm your older brother, I'm supposed t' help when it—"

"I don't need help!" Tolbert exploded. "It's _fine, _Jim! It's just for a little while. I don't need help."

"There ain't nothin' wrong with needin' help, Tolbert."

"_I don't need it! _I don't, I swear. It'll just be a few more days. Soon as I start makin' it, I can start sellin' it. It won't be long, I'm almost done with it, and—"

"Alright. Alright. Then how 'bout it's nothin' but me invitin' both of ya over for supper?"

"Nah, we're okay," Tolbert declined, still tugging at his sleeve. "Don't worry about it."

"Ya don't look _fine. _Ya look like yer about t' fall over," Jim stated harshly.

"Jim—"

"Hey, Tol, I can't wear this anymore," Bud informed him as he came down the stairs, holding a blue shirt in his hands. "It's too small."

"Alright, baby. I'll get one of the girls t' make ya a new one," Tolbert smiled at him, catching the shirt as Bud threw it to him. "Reckon we can cut this int' bandages. Never know when we'll need 'em."

"Hey, Jim," Bud beamed at his eldest brother.

"Hey, Buddy," Jim reciprocated with a soft smile. He could see how happy the boy was and he knew instantly that if he ever found out Tolbert wasn't eating, it would likely diminish that happiness. Tolbert wouldn't let Bud know how much they were struggling to get by.

Tolbert had sworn from the day he took Bud in that he'd never let the boy go hungry. And now that Jim thought about it, Tolbert had never promised him that _he _wouldn't go hungry. He'd shrugged Jim off with a "yeah, whatever" and went on his way.

So Tolbert had expected something like this to happen at one point or another. Tolbert had been fully prepared to stop eating at any given time if it meant Bud was happy and healthy.

Jim's eyes flicked over to Tolbert, who stared at the floor. Tolbert was starving, Jim knew he was, and yet he wouldn't let Jim help him. He'd always been too stubborn for his own good, had always insisted that he could make it just fine on his own. But now with no income, it was a little harder to believe that. Especially when Jim knew that Tolbert was practically starving himself.

"Tol? You a'ight?" Bud's face pinched in a concerned expression.

"Yeah, baby," Tolbert nodded, lifting his gaze. "I'm a'ight."

—

Tolbert entered Bud's room, finding that the boy was sleeping. He made his way over to the bed, sitting in the edge and pulling his fingers through Bud's hair. His vision blurred, tears spilling onto his face.

Tolbert had always expected something like this to happen. He'd expected it to happen shortly after he'd taken Bud in. Tolbert had been thirteen at the time and there wasn't much a thirteen-year-old could do, but he'd managed to make it with the harvest that year.

Bud woke up, shifting onto his back and gazing at Tolbert, who gently scratched the boy's scalp.

"Go back t' sleep, Buddy."

"Wha' y' doin'?" Bud murmured sleepily, his words slurring together.

"Couldn't sleep n came in here t' check on ya."

"Oh... Can y' keep doin' that?"

"What, you like it or somethin'?" Tolbert teased lightheartedly.

"Mhmm..."

He chuckled, watching Bud as he fought to stay awake.

"Don't leave," he mumbled.

"A'ight, baby. I won't leave," Tolbert promised, still scratching his scalp.

"Y' gonna sleep sittin' up?"

"_No, _I'm not gonna sleep sittin' up," Tolbert replied a little snarkily, earning a giggle out of Bud. Bud knew that Tolbert had no intention of actually being snarky and was just doing it to make him laugh. Bud had always found Tolbert's attitude funny, so the latter would purposely make it seem like he was irritated to coax a laugh out of Bud.

He especially loved it when Tolbert decided to mock him. It was hilarious to listen to him raise his voice in pitch while he imitated Bud, who sounded nothing like what Tolbert said he did. Bud never took offense to it; he usually laughed it off. Tolbert didn't mind making him laugh. He loved to hear the boy laugh.

"Hey, you," Tolbert gently poked his cheek. "Turn over."

Bud turned toward his older brother, who had laid down on the opposite side of the bed, humming when Tolbert began to scratch his scalp again.

"Feels good," Bud breathed, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I'm glad ya enjoy it," Tolbert snorted, kissing the boy's forehead. "Why don't ya go back t' sleep, hm?"

"'M not s'eepy," Bud whined, scooting closer and burying his face in Tolbert's chest.

"A'ight. You're not sleepy."

"'M not," he insisted, blinking slowly while he craned his neck and peered up at him. "'M not sleepy."

"Okay, okay! I believe ya, baby. I really do."

That seemed to appease him, as he nuzzled against Tolbert's chest with a content huff. Tolbert used his free hand to rub the boy's back, trying to suppress his amusement while Bud fought to stay awake.

"Whaddaya wanna stay awake so bad for?"

"Wanna... wanna talk," Bud mumbled against Tolbert's chest.

"Then talk."

"I know somethin's wrong."

Tolbert's heart skipped a beat.

"Oh, do ya?"

"Mhm. I always know when somethin's wrong. Don't know what it is, though. Reckon yer still upset 'bout me blowin' up yer still?"

"I'm not upset over that," Tolbert assured him. "Nothin's wrong. I think you're just tired and you're talkin' out of your head."

Bud huffed.

"Don't huff. Get some sleep."

"Mkay, Tol'ert. Love you."

"Love ya too, Bud."

—

"Have you seen Tolbert McCoy lately?"

Tolbert rolled his eyes at the women, wishing he could have one Sunday where he didn't hear his name mentioned in their gossip.

"What about him? He looks the same t' me."

"No, he's thinner than he used t' be. Come to think of it, I heard that his still blew up."

"Serves him right! Makin' moonshine and sellin' it the way he does. He needs a respectable job. If he wants to be Bud's father, he's got to provide for him."

Tolbert swallowed thickly. They didn't know anything about what he was going through now and he intended to keep it that way. No one needed to know that he was struggling to put food on the table. It was bad enough that Jim knew about it and wouldn't stop pestering him.

"I still think somethin's off with him."

"He'll be fine. I doubt ya should worry 'bout whatever it is."

"Maybe so, but still—"

"Oh, why don't ya quit worryin' 'bout that rude, hot-headed, ill-mannered boy? It'd do all of us good if ya stopped worryin' about it. Tolbert can take care of himself."

"Hey," Jim spoke up as he approached. "You listenin' t' them again?"

"Nothin' better t' do. Jus' wish there was one week without my name bein' mentioned."

"What's goin' on?" Calvin asked as he caught up.

"Nothin', Cal," Jim chuckled. "Ya didn't miss anything."

"Tolbert, are you okay? Ya seem a little pale."

"Fine," Tolbert waved him off. "I feel fine."

"If ya say so," Calvin shrugged. "Where's Bud?"

"Over there with Pharmer," Tolbert pointed in the general direction the two boys had run off in.

"Thank ya!"

Tolbert watched him run off and sighed, leaning against the wagon.

"Tolbert, will you _please _agree t' it?" Jim pleaded, shooting his younger brother a look.

"No," Tolbert refused, shaking his head vigorously. "I won't agree t' it. I don't need dagon charity."

"There's nothin' wrong with needin' help," Jim spoke in a hushed voice. "Let me help you. Please?"

"_No. _I'm fine on my own. I don't need any help."

"Tolbert, yer starvin'," Jim growled in his ear. "Let me help you."

"An' I've already said it — _no. _I'm not gonna let ya help me. I'm alright, so stop askin' me about it. The answer is gonna be the same every time ya ask it."

Jim sighed in defeat, slumping against the wagon beside Tolbert.

"I don't like knowin' that you're starvin', Bert."

"I'm not—"

"Don't you lie t' me," Jim snapped harshly. "If ya'd quit bein' a stubborn, hot-headed moron, ya wouldn't be starvin' the way that ya are."

"Jim, I'm not starvin'," Tolbert huffed. "I'm _fine. _Shut up 'fore someone hears ya."

"No one's gonna hear me. Why in the world would ya sit n starve yourself when ya know I'd gladly help ya out 'til ya get straightened out again?"

"Because I don't need help," he replied through gritted teeth. "I'm not — I don't need it! I'm fine, we're both fine. Bud has what he needs. I can do without for a while."

"Tolbert, if ya keep this up, ya won't eat at all."

"Jim, just give me another week, a'ight? I should have it done by then. Just _one week._"

"Fine. But if ya haven't eaten by then, I will feed you myself. Are we understandin' each other?"

"Yeah."

Tolbert stared down at the ground, subconsciously tugging on the sleeve to his coat. He chewed on his lower lip, his eyes flicking up and catching sight of Bud, who was making his way over to him with an odd look on his face.

"Ready t' go home now?" Tolbert forced a smile.

"Yeah."

"See ya t'morrow?" Tolbert turned toward Jim, who nodded.

"Yeah. See ya t'morrow."

—

Tolbert knew instantly that Bud was acting strange. He set a bowl down in front of him before he sat down. Bud stared at the bowl, biting down on his lip.

"I'm not — I'm not very hungry," he said after a moment.

"Why not? Ya feelin' poorly or somethin'?" Tolbert's brows furrowed in concern.

"No," he shook his head slightly. "Jus' ain't very hungry."

"Bud, I know ya. I know when yer lyin' an' when ya ain't. Why don't ya wanna eat it?"

"Jus' don't want to."

Tolbert exhaled deeply, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Bud—"

"D'ya really think I ain't noticed?" Bud asked softly, his hazel eyes gleaming with unshed tears as he gazed at his older brother.

"Noticed what, Buddy?"

"That ya've gotten a lot thinner."

"It's not what ya think."

"What else could it be, Tolbert?!"

"I jus' haven't been very hungry lately. 'S all it is. I've been real busy n ain't been hungry. By the time I get done for the day, I jus' wanna go t' bed n sleep for a week. I promise, baby, we'll get back t' normal soon."

"Don't lie t' me. Ya don't eat at all! Y-ya tell me ya've already eaten or you'll eat later, but I know ya ain't! I know you're not okay, that we're not okay. Why can't ya be honest with me? I want ya t' be honest with me!"

"It's not yer place t' be worryin'," Tolbert snapped. "I'm honest with you. Quit worryin' 'bout me an' eat yer supper."

"Tolbert, ya haven't ate in—"

"Ya can't prove it. Now, hush up n eat, Bud."

"You gonna eat?"

"No. I'm not hungry."

"Liar. You're a liar! I know you're lyin' t' me, Tol."

"I'm not hungry. I swear that's all it is. I've been real busy n there's times I ain't hungry at all. Here lately, all I've wanted t' do is sleep. I'm just tired, honey, that's all it is. We'll be back t' normal soon."

"An' you're a dagon liar! Ya think I don't hear you when ya argue with Jim? _I know _ya ain't eatin'! Ya've got t' eat—"

"No, I don't," Tolbert cut him off harshly. "I'm keepin' food on the table for you, what more could ya possibly want, Bud?! Don't ya understand that if both of us eat, pretty soon we'll both be starvin'?!"

Bud blanched when Tolbert raised his voice. He'd always hated it when Tolbert got mad; it made him nervous.

"I'm not gonna sit here n let you starve, Bud! It's my place t' make sure you've got everything you need, an' that includes food. I expected somethin' like this to happen a long time ago an' it didn't. But don't ya sit here n act like ya know ev'rythin' 'bout this, Bud. Ya don't know a thing about it."

"But I know you're starvin'," Bud countered, keeping his voice quiet. "I know ya are."

"It's fine, Bud. I'm not really starvin'. It's not as bad as you think it is."

"No? How long's it been since ya ate, Tolbert?"

"It's been a while," he answered honestly, averting his gaze. "I hope when ya grow up, ya never have t' make the choice b'tween eatin' an' not eatin'. Ya just... don't understand it right now. And that's okay, ya don't have to. Ya don't have t' understand it right now. Yer thirteen, yer not... yer not old enough t' understand why I'm doin' it."

"Tol, how long is a while?"

"I dunno," Tolbert sighed. "Maybe the last week of January was the last time I ate? Maybe before that. But we're okay, we're survivin—"

"Ya haven't ate in almost a month?!"

"I have t' put food on the table for you," Tolbert kept his voice calm and gentle, trying to explain it to Bud. "If I ate right now, there wouldn't be any food on the table. We've got t' get by until we get that still runnin'. Now that we've got it done, we can start makin' 'shine n sellin' it again. But until we get that goin', until we start makin' money again, I can't eat. 'Cause if I eat, it means you won't. And I've sworn t' myself n t' Jim n even Mama an' Poppy that I'd never let ya go hungry. Yer my r'spons'bility, I'm s'pposed t' take care of ya. I'm not gonna let you go hungry."

"But what about you? Ya can't keep goin' like—"

"Don't worry 'bout me," Tolbert said swiftly. "It's gonna be fine. We'll start makin' 'shine t'day n start sellin' it. Don't worry so much, honey."

Bud bit down on his lip, his brows furrowing.

"Why didn't ya tell me?"

"I didn't want ya worryin', a'ight? I just... _God, _Buddy, you're not gonna understand this 'til yer older. It's somethin' that ya won't understand now, but ya will soon 'nough. Ya just gotta have someone that ya love more than anything in the world t' understand it. Now... now never mind all that. Eat your supper, please."

"Why don't you eat it?" Bud said quickly.

"'Cause it's _yours. _I'm alright, I promise. We should be gettin' back t' normal this week, baby. We're gonna be fine. Eat yer dang supper."

"If I said I didn't want it, would ya eat it?"

"No. B'cause I swore I wa'n't gonna let ya go hungry. Would ya please eat?" Tolbert pleaded.

"Fine," he grumbled, giving in. "Ya coulda told me you were starvin'."

"I'm not—"

"Whatever," Bud interrupted, deciding to stop it before it became an argument. "I jus' wish ya woulda told me."

"I know," he sighed tiredly. "But it's not as bad as ya think it is. I promise."

"Okay. You'll eat as soon as ya start sellin' 'shine 'gain, right?"

"Yeah. I'll start eatin' then."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

—

**_March 1878_**

Tolbert sighed as Jim approached him.

"He find out?" Jim asked casually, leaning against the wagon.

"More like he figured it out," Tolbert grumbled. "But it's fine. We've got the still runnin' now n I already made a few deliv'ries. Used that money t' get what we needed n we've both been eatin'. I'm real glad what we had lasted as long as it did."

"I'm just glad yer eatin' again."

"Can't eat much right now. I'll get sick if I do."

Jim shook his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He'd never expected Tolbert to be so nonchalant about it.

"My God, have ya seen Tolbert? That boy is thinner than anyone I've seen!"

"Oh, must we talk about that boy? We all know he's nothin' but hot-headed and rude, and that he's got his moonshine business goin' again, and that he's as thin as can be. He dug his claws into an innocent two-year-old n he's yet t' let him go."

Jim noticed someone near the women turn their head, and immediately recognized Bud. Tolbert hadn't noticed; he had his head hung down with his hat pulled down as far as it would go.

"Oh dear God," Jim breathed, catching Tolbert's attention.

"What?"

"Look." Jim pointed to Bud, who was still listening to what they were saying. Jim could tell by the look on the boy's face that he'd had enough.

"Oh no," Tolbert murmured, lowering his head again and pinching the bridge of his nose. Bud was going to cause himself more trouble than it was worth, but Tolbert wouldn't stop him. He'd taught the boy to stand up for himself, to speak up when he felt something was wrong, and he had the notion that he was about to witness it firsthand.

"Ain't that Bud there?" One of the women tilted her head slightly.

"Yes... I wonder if he hates livin' with that wretched boy," Mrs. White remarked.

"You are aware I can hear you, right?" Bud queried, stuffing his hand into his pocket. "And that I've heard ev'rythin' ya said about Tolbert?"

"Well, by all means, tell us if ya hate livin' there!"

"Why would I?" Bud looked genuinely confused, stepping away from one of the Scotts and joining them so they could hear him better. "Tolbert's been the only one I've had. He still is. But b'cause of y'all, I was convinced that he hated me for a while n that he didn't want me. Ya try t' stir up trouble 'cause you don't like that Tolbert was the one who stepped up n raised me. Tolbert ain't nothin' like ya make him out t' be."

"We've known Tolbert longer than you."

"But ya don't live with him," Bud countered. "I've lived with Tolbert for thirteen years. You focus on the bad — ya focus on his shotgun temper. Yeah, Tol's got a temper on him, but he's a good man with a good heart n a good soul. He sells 'shine so we can live durin' the winter months n have a little extra durin' summer and fall. Ya don't know what Tolbert does 'cause ya don't care! All ya worry about is findin' somethin' ya can talk about, somethin' bad. Somethin' that you can take and twist it until yer happy with it, but it's the farthest thing from the dagon truth. Ya've talked 'bout him for _years. _I'm sick of it! He's done nothin' t' you."

"And what would you know, with that bum ear and all?"

"My ear's got nothin' t' do with this!"

"You were in his care when it went bad, weren't ya?"

"I had scarlet! Tolbert can't control when I get poorly n what I'm poorly with! Tolbert is a good man. An' you're all a bunch of gossipin' busybodies that don't know when t' shut up."

Tolbert snorted under his breath, glancing at Jim as he huffed in amusement. Tolbert would never stop Bud from speaking his mind. It would contradict what he'd taught him to do.

"Tolbert, can we go home, please?" Bud grumbled as he walked up to him.

"Sure, Buddy," he smiled, ruffling the boy's hair. "We'll head home."

—

"Quite the conversation ya had wit' Mrs. White n them," Tolbert teased as he sat down in the rocking chair on the porch.

"Well, I'm sick of it! All they ever do is throw off on you. If you were as bad as they say ya are, ya wouldn't've starved yerself for a month. Ya wouldn't've done a dagon thing when I caught scarlet n ya wouldn't've tried t' help with my bum ear. I'm tired of 'em makin' it out like yer a terrible person."

"T' them, I am a terrible person. Ya don't need t' know what all they say 'bout me n ya don't need t' worry 'bout it. Let 'em talk if they wanna talk. It don't bother me none. What bothers me is when they bring you into it."

"But it's _not right. _They shouldn't talk 'bout you that way!"

"Calm down, honey. It's a'ight. They've done it all my life."

"Yeah, but that don't make it right," Bud stated, his voice trembling. "You're human, ya have feelin's, too! I don't care if ya are a hot-headed moron most of the time, they have no right t' say what they say about you."

"I know. There ain't no reason for ya t' get upset, though. It's just the way it goes, baby. We're better off t' ignore 'em. Don't let 'em see how much it bothers ya. I think it makes a diff'rence to 'em 'cause they know at least one person is listenin' to 'em, even if they don't agree with what they say."

Bud huffed as his hound dog flopped down beside him and put her head on his leg. Bud gently scratched the top of her head, his eyes flicking up and meeting Tolbert's.

"Tol... can I ask somethin' without ya gettin' mad?"

"Ya know ya can."

"Why ain't you married? Or courtin'?"

"'Cause there ain't nobody that wants me, Bud. No girl wants t' get with Crazy McCoy. But that's okay. God knows I ain't the kinda person that's made t' be a husband or a father. Wouldn't be very good at either one."

"Ya've been my father."

"That's different."

"No, it's not. Ya still raised me, didn't ya? I think yer a great poppy, Tol."

Tolbert breathed a laugh, shaking his head slightly.

"You turned out pretty good," Tolbert smiled softly. "I'm right proud of ya, baby. I love you."

"Love ya too," Bud reciprocated, smiling at him. "I think a girl's crazy if she don't want ya. Yer a good man."

"Reckon it's all a matter of opinion."

"Ya are. Yer a good man, Tol. I wouldn't want anyone but you raisin' me."

"Yer only sayin' that 'cause ya didn't know Mama n Poppy," Tolbert said swiftly. "Ya wouldn't want me if ya had them. Ya wouldn't want me if ya remembered them. Trust me, honey, ya wouldn't want me raisin' ya if ya could remember Mama n Poppy."

"Why can't ya let me say somethin' good 'bout ya?"

"'Cause you've got it in your head that I'm a good person and I'm not," Tolbert snapped. "I'm not a good person. I don't know where the heck ya got the idea that I am, but ya need t' get rid of it. I'm not good for you, don't ya understand that?! I'm a terrible person that ya shouldn't want t' be around. That's what I am. I know that, I know that 'm not any good for you. But it don't stop me. Reckon I'm just puttin' my wants first n what ya need second. I never shoulda fought wit' Jim. He woulda raised ya so much better than I did."

"Stop it! Just _stop! _What d'ya mean you're not good for me?! I don't want Jim! I want you! You're nothin' like ya think ya are. I need you. Don't — don't say things like that when I know I need ya more than anyone else. Yer not a bad person. Yer a great person, Tol. I love you more than I love anyone else. Please don't say things like that."

"I lied t' you once n I didn't like it. I'm not gonna lie t' you again."

"Well... well, I think you're wonderful. Might be an idiot sometimes, but yer the best man I know. I don't know of anyone who'd do what you did for me. Takin' me in an' raisin' me, even when I lost hearin' in my ear. Jus' don't seem right that ya think yer terr'ble."

Tolbert sighed, his eyes focusing on his little brother. He observed him, his eyes scanning over his baby brother's frame.

"Reckon I don't have t' say things like that 'round you," Tolbert muttered after a moment. "'M sorry."

"Don't apologize," Bud shook his head. "I just... oh God, I dunno. 'S hard for me t' think of ya as a terr'ble person when I know ya better than ev'ryone who says yer terr'ble. Ya ain't terrible. Ya've put up with a lot since ya took me in... I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Tolbert forced a small smile. "I promise, baby, it's not nearly as bad as ya think."

"No? You think yer terrible," Bud pointed out.

"Well, there's more reason for that than what they say."

"Like what?"

"Like that time ya thought I hated ya n didn't want ya. I had t' give ya some reason t' think that might be true. Like what happened in January when the still blew up n I got mad. The way I lied to ya an' tried t' keep how much we were strugglin' from ya. I'm just... not the kind of person who should be actin' like a father. Nothin' against you, I love ya more than anything, but I'm not the kind of person who should be a father."

"Yes, ya are," Bud insisted. "Ya should be a father. Ya are a father, really. Ya raised me, didn't ya? I think I turned out pretty good."

"Yeah, ya did," Tolbert chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Ya turned out t' be one heck of a human. I'm right proud of ya, baby."

"There's nothin' t' be proud of," Bud laughed. "I ain't ever done nothin'!"

"I just watched you stand up t' the women of the church. Ya stand up for yourself n your beliefs all the time, honey. Ya make me real proud when ya do."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm right proud of ya, Bud McCoy. Enough of that. I wanna give ya somethin'. Let me go get it."

Tolbert stood and went inside, ignoring the confused expression on Bud's face. He went to Ran'l and Sally's room, grabbing Ran'l's rifle and some bullets before making his way back to the boy, who had focused his attention on his hound dog, petting the dog's head gently.

"I know ya ain't fourteen yet, but I think yer r'sponsible enough t' have it. This here was Poppy's rifle. He'd bought it not too long 'fore the accident."

Tolbert handed the gun to Bud, who blinked in shock. He struggled to create words, his brain seeming to erupt into a scene of chaos as he tried to figure out what he could possibly say.

"Thank you," he managed to get out.

"Ev'ry boy should have his own gun. I think Poppy'd like it if he knew you're gonna be the one t' get some use outta that one."

"Y-yeah?" Bud's eyes flicked up at Tolbert before returning to the gun, running his hand along it.

"Yeah."

"That's... oh my God, I don't know what t' say."

"How 'bout ya wanna learn how t' shoot it?" Tolbert suggested, quirking a brow.

"Ya mean you'll teach me? Now?"

"If ya want. I don't care to."

Bud got up, practically bouncing with excitement.

"Can you? Please?"

"Yeah, baby," Tolbert chuckled. "C'mon."

—

**_August 1878_**

Tolbert grunted when Bud ran into him, stumbling as his arms wrapped around the boy. Bud sobbed into his shoulder, his arms tightly wrapped around Tolbert.

"What's the matter, honey?"

"I don't — I — I—" he cut himself off with another sob.

"Hey, hey, breathe. Breathe. There ya go, baby. Easy," Tolbert cooed, carding his fingers through Bud's thick locks of hair.

"I — I think it was real... I'm not — I'm not sure," he stuttered, burying his face in Tolbert's shoulder. "They—they shot ya. Oh God, I've never heard anyone scream like that!"

"Woah, easy, honey, easy. It was only a dream. No one's shot me."

Bud sniffled, clinging tightly to Tolbert.

"I've never had a dream like that," he whispered softly, his voice trembling. "It was so _real._"

"Sometimes they're like that, Buddy. You're a'ight, ev'rythin's a'ight."

"Y' sure?" Bud asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"But... but—"

"Hey, it's okay, baby. Here, sit down n I'll light a lamp."

Bud nodded before sitting down. Tolbert lit a lamp and placed it on the table, sitting down beside Bud and brushing the boy's hair out of his eyes. Bud placed his head against Tolbert's arm, his trembling hand grasping Tolbert's.

He closed his eyes, swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat. Bud had never had a dream like that before in his life, and he'd rather forget it ever happened. He didn't want another dream like that one; he didn't want something so realistic that it made him wake with tears racing down his pale face, a scream caught in his throat that had nearly burst through his lips the second he awoke.

He didn't like having terrifying dreams that seemed real. He huffed in contentment when Tolbert gently started to rub his cheek, managing to calm himself down a little.

"You okay?"

"Mhm."

"Don't fall asleep at the table, Buddy," Tolbert chuckled softly, causing Bud to shoot him an unamused glare. "Don't be hateful either."

"'M not hateful," he grumbled, shifting slightly.

"If ya say so."

"'M not."

"Why don't we get you back upstairs, hm? It's alright now."

Bud agreed to it, letting Tolbert lead him up the stairs. He entered Bud's room and placed the lamp on the table, watching the boy as he crawled into bed.

"You okay?"

"Yeah... Will y' stay a minute?" Bud requested, his cheeks flushing scarlet.

"Sure."

Tolbert sat on the edge of the bed, deciding that would be best. He took hold of Bud's hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of it.

"Ya don't wanna be alone, do ya?" Tolbert asked, shooting Bud a knowing look.

"Not — not really," he admitted softly. "I don't... I'm sorry. Y' can go if ya want... I'm too old t' be doin' this."

"Hey, stop that," Tolbert chided softly. "Ya ain't too old. Ya can't help that ya get scared. It's part of bein' human. There's times I don't want t' be alone after havin' a dream like that, then there's times I just don't feel comfortable bein' alone. And any time you feel that way, ya know where ya can find me. I don't care t' keep ya comp'ny, baby."

"Thanks," Bud gave a small smile. "I love ya, Tol."

"Love ya too, Bud."

—

**_January 1880_**

"Bud, honey, you a'ight?" Tolbert asked as he pushed the door to Bud's room open. Bud was lying on his side, sleeping, his good ear pressed against the pillow with one arm tucked against his chest, his face flushed and his lips slightly parted, his hair splayed across the pillow in every direction.

Tolbert breathed a laugh and shook his head, making his way over to him. He bent down and gently shook his shoulder, the boy jerking awake.

"Mmm... wha' y' want?" he slurred after turning onto his back, making sure he could hear Tolbert before asking.

"Best get up, youngin. Yer sleepin' the day away."

"I don't feel s' good," Bud murmured, shifting slightly.

"Mm... ya don't look like ya do. Yer awful pale."

Tolbert places the back of his hand to Bud's forehead and sighed.

"You ain't movin' from this bed. Or at the very least, you're not goin' outside."

"Y' mean yer gonna let me get up this time?" Bud smirked in amusement, knowing Tolbert usually confined him to his bed.

"Yeah, I'll let ya get up this time," Tolbert laughed softly. "Just don't go outside, mkay?"

"Mkay. I'll be up in a minute."

"A'ight, baby. I'll put ya a plate on the table."

"'Kay. Just not too much? I don't think I can eat very much."

"Yeah, whatever ya want, honey. I'll be downstairs waitin' for ya."

—

By the time evening rolled around, Bud felt much worse than he had that morning. He sat in front of the fireplace, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, relishing in the warmth from the fire.

Tolbert had gone up to his still, leaving Bud alone. He looked up when the door opened, expecting to see Tolbert, but instead found Jim.

"Hey, Buddy. Where's Tol?" Jim greeted, closing the door.

"Went up t' his still. He'll be back in a minute," Bud mumbled.

"You okay, honey?" Jim's brow furrowed in concern.

"Jus' don't feel s' good," he murmured. "Tol won't let me go outside. I mean, I don't want to, but it's just the point, y'know? It's odd not bein' able t' do somethin'."

"Yeah, I know whatcha mean," Jim nodded, sitting down beside him. "How bad ya feel?"

"I mean... I don't think it's t' the point of mis'rable. I jus' don't feel s' good. Feel a lot worse than what I did this mornin', though," he mumbled.

"Ya wanna go t' bed?"

"No. I wanna stay here. 'S warm here."

Jim couldn't help but laugh at his response. Bud put his head against Jim's shoulder, groaning quietly. Jim sighed, pulling the fifteen-year-old onto his lap, gently rocking back and forth while he combed his fingers through the boy's sweaty locks of hair.

He kept his head on Jim's shoulder, allowing his older brother to take the blanket from him and cover him with it. Jim wrapped one arm around him, using his free hand to play with the boy's hair and caress his face. Bud hummed and closed his eyes, nuzzling against Jim's neck.

Jim kept hold of him, letting the boy doze off. Bud's breathing evened out, indicating that the boy had fallen asleep.

Tolbert came in then, shivering as he closed the door.

"What're you doin' here?" he queried, taking off his hat and coat.

"Ain't seen ya in a while. Stopped t' talk to ya n found this lil one instead," Jim replied, the corner of his lip turned upward.

"Lil one?" Tolbert scoffed. "He's nearly as tall as me! He can wear my clothes."

"Oh, can he?" Jim chuckled.

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded slightly. "He feelin' any worse?"

"Yeah. Said he feels worse than he did this mornin'."

"Thought so. If he was feelin' better, he wouldn't let ya hold him like that. He'd fight ya."

"He always this way when he's poorly?"

"Purdy much. That boy gives me more reasons t' worry when he gets poorly than anyone else. Scares the life outta me sometimes. He just... God, Jim, I get scared ev'ry time he gets that way now. I have since he was three. It scares me... the thought of losin' him. And I hate myself for thinkin' it up, but I somehow manage t' do it every time he gets poorly."

"B'cause he gave ya a good scare when he was three. He right near died on ya then. An' I'm not sure if you'd willin'ly admit it or not, but ya need him more than ya think ya do, Bert. He needs you n you need him. That's how this works."

Tolbert exhaled deeply through his nostrils, bending down and gently shaking Bud's shoulder. Bud stirred and grunted, but he didn't wake. So Tolbert did it again.

"Stop," he whined.

"Let's get ya upstairs t' bed, honey," Tolbert spoke softly. "You'll be more comfortable."

Bud turned his head and opened his eyes, blinking a few times when they landed on Tolbert.

"Tol'ert?"

"Yeah, Buddy," Tolbert suppressed a laugh. "C'mon, let's getcha to your room."

"M' room?" His brows furrowed.

"Mhm. C'mon, baby. Stand up, there ya go."

Tolbert carefully placed one hand on his back, leading him toward the staircase. They ascended the stairs, walking the short distance down the hall to Bud's room. Bud shuffled in and flopped onto the bed, Tolbert smiling and shaking his head fondly at the boy's antics.

"Rest up, Buddy," Tolbert murmured, covering him with a thick quilt before pressing a kiss to the boy's temple. "Night."

"G'night."

—

Bud was ill for three days.

Within those three days, Tolbert was taking care of Bud and completing both of their chores while simultaneously trying to run his moonshine business. He'd managed, though, and now that Bud was feeling better, he had agreed to let the boy do his chores.

"Ya look tired," Bud observed as he glanced at Tolbert. "Ya ain't slept much these last few days, have ya?"

"Nope," Tolbert sighed. "How'd you know that?"

"Lucky guess," Bud shrugged. "And yer startin' t' look like a raccoon."

"A'ight, that's just mean. I don't look that bad yet."

"_Yet._"

"Won't you shut up?"

Walking over to him, handing him a bucket full of feed, Bud grinned teasingly.

"Where's the fun in that?"


	18. It'll Be Alright (Modern AU)

**_September 2009_**

Bud tugged on the hem of Tolbert's shirt, causing his older brother to look down at him. Tolbert sighed, bending down and lifting him, placing a kiss on the boy's cheek.

"Do ya have t' go?" Bud asked softly, his hazel eyes welling with tears.

"Yeah, baby. I've got t' go," Tolbert murmured in response. "But it's okay! I'll get a leave pretty soon n I'll come see ya. When I get back, we'll do whatever you want. Just me n you."

"I don't want y' t' go!" Bud buried his face in the crook of Tolbert's neck.

"I know, Buddy. But I've got to. I promise, honey, we'll do whatever ya want when I come back. 'S jus' for a little while. It'll be okay. And hey, ya get our room all to yourself!"

Bud squirmed as Tolbert brushed his fingers against his side, tickling him.

"Hey, look at me."

Bud lifted his head, gazing at his older brother. Tolbert peppered the boy's face with kisses.

"I love you."

"I love y' too," Bud sniffled. "Please don't go."

"I have to. But I promise, Bud, I'll be back."

"Okay."

—

**_January 2010_**

Bud huffed as he sat in the office, kicking his legs back and forth while he did his homework. He'd always hated it with a passion, and he hated it even more now that he didn't have Tolbert to help him with it.

Ran'l had made it plain that Bud was to stay in the office while he went up to the mill to see why they were broke down. So Bud hadn't complained and had sat in Ran'l's chair at the desk, and had been occupying himself with his homework.

He didn't bother to look up when the door opened, figuring it was his father or one of his brothers. He heard the door close and heard someone shuffle. Bud didn't pay any attention to it, though. His brothers were always shuffling around in the office to find the tools Ran'l sent them after.

His brows furrowed when he didn't hear them rustling around. That was odd. He knew that they were still there, but he couldn't figure out why they hadn't set out to find what they needed.

"Well, geez, kid. I thought you'd be happy t' see me."

Bud's gaze snapped up, his eyes widening when he saw Tolbert. He scrambled out of his chair and ran over to him, throwing himself into Tolbert's arms. Tolbert held him, letting him wrap his arms and legs around him tightly and tuck his head in the crook of his neck.

"Tolbert!" he muffled against his neck, tears streaming down his face.

"Hey, baby," Tolbert laughed softly, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple. "Where's Poppy?"

"U-up at the m-mill. Oh my God, I m-missed you!"

"I missed ya too, Buddy. Spent a lot of time thinkin' 'bout ya while I was over there."

"Y-ya gotta go back?" Bud lifted his head and wiped his face.

"Yeah. I've got two weeks with you, though. We'll do whatever you want. I promised that, r'member?"

Bud nodded and swallowed thickly.

"And I'll have t' stay with you. That okay?"

"Y-yeah," Bud answered swiftly. "Yeah, 's okay. 'S been lonely without ya."

"How could you possibly be lonely in this crazy family of ours?" Tolbert teased, kissing his cheek.

"None of 'em's you," Bud murmured. Tolbert's gaze softened as he stared at the boy, exhaling deeply. "'M real glad yer back."

"Me too, baby. Me too."

—

Tolbert grunted when Bud kicked his stomach, muttering something incoherent under his breath before grabbing Bud's ankle and pulling him toward him, the little boy screeching.

"Hey! Hey, no, no, stop!" Bud swatted at him, laughing as Tolbert pinched his sides.

"You started it," Tolbert shrugged, smacking his leg before he climbed onto the bed.

Tolbert sighed heavily as he flopped down on his side of the bed, throwing his arms over his head. Bud crawled up to him and curled up against him, laying his left arm on Tolbert's torso, his head lying on his chest.

"Hey, Tol?"

"Hm?"

"Why d'ya gotta go back?"

"'Cause I was told I have to," he replied, pulling his fingers through the boy's hair. "This is technically my job right now. An' while I don't like leavin' you or anyone else in the fam'ly, I like what I do. I like fightin' t' keep you safe. While I might be technically fightin' t' keep the country safe, I think 'bout you every night, baby. 'Cause I'm keepin' you safe by fightin'."

"Y-yeah? I think 'bout ya too, Tolbert. Ev'ry night."

"I miss you a lot, kiddo. You're my fav'rite, ya know that?"

"No," he murmured. "Yer my fav'rite, too."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's sweet of ya, baby," Tolbert chuckled, kissing the top of Bud's head. "Whaddaya say we watch a movie?"

"Sure."

"You okay with it? If ya don't wanna watch a movie, we can do somethin' else."

"Mm... I'm really tired, Tol."

"A'ight, so we'll sleep. That sounds like a _fantastic _idea, kiddo."

Bud giggled as Tolbert got up and turned off the lights. He rolled onto his side of the bed, pulling the covers up to his chest before shifting onto his side and stuffing his arm under his pillow.

"Night, Tolbert."

"Night, Buddy."

—

Tolbert gasped as he jerked awake, pushing himself up to a sitting position. Once his bleary vision focused in the dark room, Tolbert huffed a breath of relief and let himself fall against the bed, shifting onto his side.

"God, I hate those stupid dreams," he grumbled to himself, stuffing his arm under his pillow.

"Tol'ert? Y' say somethin'?" Bud mumbled groggily.

"No, baby. Go back t' sleep."

Bud turned over and curled up against him, huffing in contentment as he nuzzled against Tolbert's neck. Tolbert wrapped an arm around him, a small smile appearing on his face.

"Love y', Tol."

"Love you too, baby."

—

Tolbert was up before the sun. He'd carefully maneuvered his way out of bed and had gone downstairs, finding his father in the kitchen.

"Sleep well?" Ran'l queried, quirking a brow.

"Eh," Tolbert shrugged. "Not as well as I would've liked. I thought those stupid dreams would stop once I came home, but they didn't."

"The ones ya told me 'bout?"

"Yeah," he nodded swiftly. "I managed t' get back t' sleep, though."

"Sit down, son."

Tolbert did as he was told, sitting down in the chair across from Ran'l's. He licked his lips and shifted slightly, his eyes flicking up and meeting his father's.

"Don't look so nervous, Tolbert. Ya told me 'bout 'em n I never told anyone. What'd ya dream last night, son?"

"That Bud got hurt. I don't think it woulda been as bad if it hadn't felt so real," he admitted quietly. "It's fine, I know he's alright."

"Because you're sleepin' in the same room he is. What do ya do when you're over there, hm?"

"Tell myself that if anythin' was wrong, y'all would call me. You'd find some way t' let me know what was goin' on. I can usually get back t' sleep after that. It's jus' stupid dreams that feel a little too real."

"I know. I hope ya stop havin' 'em while you're here. But when you're overseas n ya worry 'bout people, you're bound t' have those types of dreams."

"Bud's diff'rent," Tolbert said quickly. "He's not like the rest of 'em t' me. I've never had anybody want t' be around me like he does. He's just — he's _different. _He don't care if I get mad or not, he's _right there. _And I love him more than anythin'. I really do."

"I know ya do. You n Bud have a special kind of bond that won't go away, no matter what the two of ya do or say t' each other. Ya love each other too much for that. He looks up t' you. He thinks yer the greatest man on earth, Tolbert McCoy."

"Well, he shouldn't think that," Tolbert chuckled. "Not when he's got you t' look up to."

"Bud McCoy is gonna think what he wants t' think. There ain't no stoppin' him. He's like you, he's stubborn n hard-headed. Pretty sure that's the only way the two of ya are alike," Ran'l remarked, earning a bark of laughter from Tolbert. "I'm serious! That boy's as hard-headed and as stubborn as you are."

"He can't be that bad, Poppy."

"He's that bad, Tolbert."

"Wha's goin' on?"

Tolbert turned and found Bud, who was rubbing his eye as he padded into the kitchen.

"I'm jus' talkin' t' Poppy, baby. What're you doin' up?"

"Y' wa'n't there," Bud mumbled, climbing into his older brother's lap. "Thought y' went 'way 'gain."

"No, Buddy. I'm not goin' anywhere for a little while, remember? We've still got thirteen days t'gether."

Bud placed his head against Tolbert's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Tolbert kissed the crown of Bud's head and wrapped his arms around him, making sure the boy didn't topple over.

"I love y', Tol'ert," he murmured sleepily, fighting to stay awake.

"I love you too, Buddy. You can go back t' sleep if ya wanna."

Bud hummed and closed his eyes, dozing off.

"Well, I see ya have yourself a lost puppy," Ran'l jested, earning an eye roll from Tolbert.

"He's clingy," Tolbert muttered, a small smile gracing his lips. "But I know I was the same way ev'ry time you came home. There ain't a thing wrong with him bein' clingy. I don't know if I get t' come back home this time."

"Tolbert—"

"You know as well as I do that it's a possibility. I'd rather spend what time I've got with him than regret it once I go back. He doesn't understand why I do what I do. All he knows is that I go away n leave him here; I want it that way. I don't want him knowin' what I'm doin' or what could happen to me. I don't want him t' be scared of me, Poppy."

"He wouldn't be scared of ya. He'd love ya even more."

"I dunno, Poppy. I've watched a lot of people die."

"I know," Ran'l sighed. "But... listen, a'ight? You're gonna come back home. _Alive. _That boy right there needs you, ya know it as well as I do. He's gonna be your reason for stayin' alive."

Tolbert nodded slightly. He knew his father was right; Bud was his reason for staying alive. Bud was the reason he wasn't careless. Tolbert knew there was always the chance of something happening to him anyway, but as long as Bud was safe, he didn't care about that. He just wanted his baby brother to be safe.

"Yeah... I reckon he is my reason for stayin' alive," Tolbert admitted, brushing Bud's bangs out of his eyes. "I love him. I love all of ya, I do, but I think I worry 'bout him the most, y'know? He practically attached himself t' my hip n he's always been my fav'rite, ain't gonna lie. I need him."

Ran'l smiled and stood up, ruffling Tolbert's ginger curls.

"I know ya need him. He needs you, too. But don't forget, Tolbert, every single one of us needs you. We all love ya. You've always been yer Mama's fav'rite, an' it'd break her heart if somethin' ever happened to ya, son. Yer one of my fav'rites."

Tolbert chuckled breathlessly.

"Poppy, y' don't have ta—"

Tolbert was cut off by Ran'l placing a finger against his lips, just like he used to when Tolbert was a small child. The memory made Tolbert giggle at the action.

"What're you gigglin' for?" Ran'l laughed.

"Ya used t' do that all the time t' get me t' shut up. I'd kinda forgot about it."

"Anyway, I'm tellin' ya the truth, Bert. I don't know what I'd do without ya, son. You're a good man with a good heart, and I think that's the best thing 'bout ya. You'd do anything for any of us. I'm right proud of ya, Bert."

"'M glad I could make ya proud, Poppy. I've been tryin' for years."

"Ya don't have t' try t' make me proud. I've been proud o' you all your life, Tolbert McCoy. Ya've never given me a reason t' be anythin' but proud of ya."

"I can think of a few dumb things I've done," Tolbert snorted.

"I never said ya ain't ever done a few dumb things in yer life. I said ya ain't gave me a reason t' not be proud of ya."

"A'ight, that's fair," he shrugged lightheartedly. "In case I don't see ya again 'cause I promised this one we'd go out t'day... I love you."

"I love you too, son."

—

Two weeks later, Bud was curled against his father's side, his eyes red and burning. Ran'l rubbed the little boy's back, knowing that he'd eventually fall asleep and he could carry him up to his room.

"Why'd he have t' go?" Bud murmured, his hand clenching the fabric of Ran'l's shirt.

"'Cause he hasn't retired from the army yet. Tolbert knows what he's doin', honey. He's careful."

"Wha' ya mean by that?" Bud looked up at him, brows furrowed. "Is somethin' gonna happen to him?!"

"What? No, Buddy, no. At least... I don't think so. I think he'll come back alive."

"He could die?"

"Yeah, honey," Ran'l nodded slowly. "He could die. He's at war. War's a terrible thing, Buddy, but your brother knows what he's doin'. I doubt he's gonna let himself get killed when he knows you're here waitin' for him t' come back."

"Why would he go then?"

"Because he cares about you. He wants t' keep ya safe, Bud. He feels that this is the best way t' do that."

Bud sobbed into his father's shirt, his grip on the fabric tightening.

"I don't w-want him gone! I—I want h-him ho-home!"

"I know, Buddy. He's gonna be okay. Let's get you t' bed. It's awful late."

—

"Finally get him t' sleep?" Sally quirked a brow as Ran'l entered their room.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I slipped up. He found out the bad possibility."

"Oh, Ran'l," Sally groaned, shooting her husband a look.

"I know, Sally. I know. We're not tellin' Tolbert he found out. He'd kill me."

"I doubt that very much. Bert loves you. He might be a Mama's boy, but he loves you a lot, Randolph McCoy. He looks up t' you. He always has."

"Yeah, an' it was me joinin' the army that made him want t' do it," Ran'l retaliated, his voice taking an edge to it.

"You know as well as I do that he woulda done it anyway. He's got that little boy down the hall that he's determined t' keep safe."

Ran'l glanced at Sally before he shook his head, getting into bed.

"I don't know, Sally. I don't think he woulda gone overseas if it wasn't for the fact he thought it was great that I was in the army. He mighta stayed in Pike County as a policeman or somethin', I don't know. I'd feel better if I knew he was safe all the time."

"A'ight, so say ya didn't join the army n he still looked ya dead in the eye n said he wanted t' join the army. Would ya stop him?"

"Ya know darn good and well that I can't stop him when he's eighteen."

"_Exactly. _He's eighteen, Ran'l. Ya can't stop him."

"But if I could, I would."

"I know that, darlin'. Just like I woulda stopped you if I could've."

Ran'l looked over at her, finding that she was on her side, facing him. He sighed heavily and shifted onto his side, cupping her face with his left hand and pecking her lips.

"I know ya would've. But I don't regret goin'. I'm glad I went. Made me feel like I did somethin' t' keep you n all of our babies safe."

"Mm... I think ya do a fine job of keepin' us safe."

"Thanks, I reckon." A beat of silence. "Tolbert's gonna be fine. We'll just keep in touch with him."

—

**_October 2010_**

"_Hey, Poppy. Listen, things changed and I'm not gonna be able t' come home this time. I know I promised him n all, but I was told not too long ago it's not possible. And I was told it's likely there won't be any leaves for Thanksgivin' or Christmas. Tell him I'm sorry. I want t' come home, but I can't. Oh God, I gotta go. Love you._"

Ran'l sighed heavily, trying to figure out how he could explain it to Bud. He'd been looking forward to Tolbert coming home again. It would break the boy's heart to know that Tolbert wasn't going to be coming home for a long while.

"Hey, Poppy! When's Tol comin' home?" Bud beamed at him as he entered the office.

Ran'l gazed at him, motioning for the boy to come closer. Bud walked over to him, leaning against his arm.

"When's he comin' home, Poppy?"

"Buddy... Tol's not gonna get t' come home this time around."

"Why not?" Bud's voice dropped in volume, his mood turning solemn.

"They told him he can't come home this time."

"But he'll be here for—"

"He's not gonna get t' come home until next year."

Tears welled in the little boy's eyes, his throat closing up as he gazed at his father.

"Come here, Buddy."

He climbed into his father's lap, one leg on either side of him. Bud put his head against Ran'l's shoulder, his hand grasping the fabric of Ran'l's shirt.

"Why?" Bud asked, his voice no louder than a hoarse whisper.

"I don't know, son. But it's okay. We'll just make it even better when he gets t' come home."

"He promised, Poppy."

"I know. He can't help it if they tell him he has t' stay there, Bud. He could get in a lot of trouble if he left. Believe me, Bud, he wants t' come home. He just can't."

Bud whimpered as a few stray tears fell onto his pale face, sniffling.

"I miss 'im."

"I know, Buddy. But it's okay. We're gonna do whatever ya want for your birthday."

Bud slowly shook his head. He didn't want to do anything without Tolbert. Tolbert was supposed to come home and stay for about a week, and he was supposed to be there for Bud's birthday. He'd been looking forward to it, had already planned to spend all of his time with Tolbert.

"Hey, it's okay. Tolbert'll come home soon. You can do whatever ya want with him then."

That wasn't the same, though, and Bud didn't know how to express that. Tolbert was supposed to have been there and he wasn't going to be. It angered him and saddened him, but he wasn't sure which emotion was the most dominant one. He was almost certain it was the sadness that was the most dominant, though.

"I love you, Buddy."

"I love you, Poppy," he murmured. "When y' talk t' Tol 'gain, will ya tell 'im I love him?"

"Yeah, darlin'. I'll tell him."

—

**_December 2011_**

Bud was undeniably sick. Ran'l was having a hard time convincing the boy that he needed to go to the doctor, even though Ran'l could lift him and carry him out the door himself. He was trying to make Bud understand that it wasn't normal to run a fever of 103.1, that it wasn't _normal _for his breathing to be as shallow as it was.

And after managing to work out a deal that Ran'l would let him stay up late to talk to Tolbert, Bud agreed to it. He'd allowed his father to take him to the doctor, where he learned he had pneumonia.

Now, waiting for Tolbert to call, he curled up against his father, shifting slightly in an attempt to get comfortable. Ran'l let him curl up against him, brushing his sweaty hair off of his forehead.

The phone rang. Ran'l scratched Bud's head while he answered it, putting it on speaker.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Poppy," Tolbert greeted, sounding exhausted. Bud's brows furrowed. That didn't sound like Tolbert at all. "How's ev'rybody doin'?"

"Well, I guess we're gettin' along a'ight. Bud's got pneumonia, but he's okay. I made the deal with him that he could stay up n talk t' you if he agreed t' go to the doctor."

"You lettin' him blackmail you already?" Tolbert joked.

"He didn't blackmail me," Ran'l rolled his eyes. "He was bein' stubborn."

"I was not!" Bud argued. Tolbert laughed at them.

"Hey, baby! How ya doin'?"

"A'ight. I miss ya, Tol. Ya gonna get t' come home for Christmas?"

"'Fraid not, baby," Tolbert sighed heavily. "Ain't no leaves available for Christmas. I'm tryin', though. I wanna come home n spend all my time with ya. I miss you."

"Why won't they let ya come home?"

"I don't know, Buddy. But I promise, honey, as soon as I can, I'll come home. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Now... now listen t' me, a'ight? Ya've gotta get better for me, so you do whatever Mama n Poppy tell ya t' do. Okay?"

"Okay. I hope ya come home soon."

"Me too, baby. Me too."

"Ya doin' okay, Tol?"

"Yeah, baby, I'm doin' just fine. I'm still talkin' to ya, ain't I?"

"Yeah...?"

"Well then, I'm doin' just fine. Believe me, honey, it's rough over here. And I hope and pray ya never have t' go through anything like it."

"Why?"

"A lot of things I'll explain to ya when you're older. Right now... right now, you focus on gettin' better and plannin' a day just for us when I get back. Okay?"

"Okay."

"I've gotta go, but I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Tolbert."

—

Bud huffed as Jim entered his room, turning to where his back faced him.

"Oh, don't be that way. You're not in trouble."

"I don't care if I am! I don't want her in here!" Bud snapped harshly, refusing to turn over and look at Jim. "I don't want anyone in here!"

"Liar."

"I am not."

"You are too. Ya want Bert here with ya like he always is when ya get sick," Jim countered, watching as Bud's breath hitched. "But that wa'n't no reason t' snap at Ali the way ya did. She's just tryin' t' help, Buddy."

"I don't want her help."

"I know. You can't have what you want this time. It's diff'rent for all of us, Bud. We're all used t' havin' Tolbert around all the time, but he's not anymore. And you've got t' accept it right now. Ya don't have t' like it, but you've gotta accept it. Ya got t' let the rest of us help you."

"Why don't he ever come home anymore?" Bud asked softly, his throat constricting.

"I reckon 'cause they only let so many of 'em go home. I guess Tolbert ain't been lucky enough t' get another leave."

"I miss 'im."

"I know ya do, darlin'," Jim sighed, rubbing Bud's back. "Let's hope he gets t' come home after the holidays are over with. Lord knows Tolbert needs to come home for a little while."

"What d'ya mean by that?"

"Nothin', Buddy. You try t' get some rest now."

—

**_April 2012_**

Bud grunted as he fell on the ground, groaning exasperatedly before standing up and grabbing the hammer again, going back to prying the rusty nails out of the board on the fence he was trying to fix.

"Bud, ain't you a bit young for that?" Calvin queried as he approached him.

"No, I ain't too young for it," Bud answered quite rudely. "Why don't ya mind yer own business, Calvin?"

"I was gonna help—"

"I don't need help! Just leave me alone, would ya?"

"A'ight," Calvin conceded, putting his hands up in mock surrender. He knew when to stop bothering Bud.

Bud watched him as he walked off, leaving him alone. Bud bit down harshly on his lip, forcing back unwanted tears. He didn't know what was wrong with him; he'd never been that way before. It wasn't like him to snap at Calvin for walking up to him and asking him a question like that.

He shook his head and went back to work. He didn't have the time to sit there and think about it.

—

Bud looked up as Jim entered his room, shooting him an unamused look.

"So, ya wanna tell me what happened with Calvin?" Jim asked nonchalantly, crossing the room and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"He acts like I can't do nothin'," Bud huffed. "'M not a baby no more."

"I know you're not. No one's sayin' that yer still a baby, Buddy. We just... we worry 'bout ya, honey."

"Ain't nothin' t' worry 'bout," Bud grumbled, picking at his nails.

"Randolph McCoy, Junior, I'm surprised at you," Ran'l started as he entered the room. "What's the matter with ya, snappin' at Cal the way ya did?!"

"'M sorry, Poppy. He keeps treatin' me like I'm a baby that can't do nothin'."

Ran'l exhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm down a little. He'd promised Sally that he wouldn't take his belt to Bud, and he intended to keep his promise.

"Bud, ya can't snap at people 'cause they do that."

"Why not?! 'M tired of him treatin' me like a baby!"

"Calm down, Bud," Jim spoke up, brushing the boy's shoulder-length hair back. "It's okay. Ya have ev'ry right t' feel the way ya do."

"Jim," Ran'l shot him a look.

"Poppy, ya'd have t' see it t' understand it."

"Poppy, is Tol comin' home?" Bud inquired, hope shining in his hazel eyes.

Ran'l didn't say anything as he crossed the room, pulling his fingers through his son's long hair.

"No, I'm afraid not," he answered softly.

"Can I talk t' him?"

"Not this time. Ya've got school t'morrow n ya gotta get up early, Buddy. Maybe next time."

"Okay, Poppy," he whispered, fighting to keep his tears back.

Ran'l ruffled his hair and planted a soft kiss on the crown of his head.

"Don't stay up much longer."

"Mkay."

Ran'l left the room, leaving him with Jim.

"I'm sorry, honey."

Bud's eyes flicked up and met Jim's.

"You talk to him?"

"Sometimes, yeah," he nodded slightly.

"Seems like ev'ryone does but me," Bud muttered quietly, hanging his head. "He ain't let me talk t' him since I had pneumonia. An' that was the first time I talked t' him while he's been over there."

"Well, baby, stayin' up that late ain't good for you. The rest of us can get by with sleepin' in a little. You can't. Ya have t' get up early t' go t' school."

"School ain't important. Tolbert is."

"School is very important, Bud. Ya like readin', don't ya? Ya wouldn't be able t' do it without goin' t' school."

"No, Tolbert taught me how t' read."

"He did?" Jim blinked.

"Mhm. He taught me 'fore I started school. My teacher thought I was fakin' it, but I wa'n't."

"Well... you try t' get some sleep, a'ight? I'm gonna go home and do the same."

"Do ya have t' go?" Bud asked with a trembling voice. "I don't wanna be alone."

"A'ight, one night," Jim conceded.

"Thank you."

"Think nothin' of it, Buddy."

—

**_November 2012_**

"_Again?! _He's not coming home _again?!_"

"Bud, ya know he can't—"

"I don't care! It's the same excuse every time he promises me he's gonna come home!"

"Bud, he wants—"

"It's like he don't even wanna come home anymore!"

Bud didn't give Ran'l a chance to say anything else; he went to his room and slammed the door, locking it behind him.

They were hiding something from him, he knew they were. They never let him talk to Tolbert, Tolbert never came home, he never heard anything directly _from _Tolbert. It was starting to make him think that maybe Tolbert had gotten killed and they weren't telling him.

The thought shattered Bud's heart. They _would _tell him if Tolbert had gotten killed, wouldn't they?

—

"I don't know what I'm gonna do with him, Sally," Ran'l sighed as he sat down on the couch, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders.

"You're gonna leave him be," she stated firmly. "He's got a right t' feel the way he does, Ran'l."

"He said—"

"I know what he said. I heard him. Bud's got every right t' be hurt n upset, Randall. Ya don't even let him talk to him anymore."

"The last time I did, he had the same dream for a week straight."

"But he did a lot better when he talked to him," she countered softly. "You're gonna make him think somethin's wrong."

"Why would he do that?"

"Ya know how Bud is. If ya keep this up, not lettin' him talk to him or hear anything from him, he's gonna convince himself that we're keepin' somethin' from him. You can't go by Perry's opinion, Ran'l. He don't know your boy like you do."

"Perry has nothing t' do with this."

"Perry has everything t' do with this. He told you it would be best if ya didn't let him talk to him. That's gonna make it worse, Ran'l. Let him talk to him. Talkin' never did any harm."

—

"Hey, Tolbert," Ran'l murmured.

"Poppy? Ya alright?"

"Fine, son. You alright?"

"Yeah. It's been... a little peaceful t'day."

Ran'l slowly opened the door to Bud's room, finding the boy awake, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, Buddy, ya wanna talk t' Tolbert?"

"No!" Bud turned away from him. "I don't care anymore. I don't wanna talk t' him!"

"Poppy? Did I do somethin'?" Tolbert asked softly as Ran'l closed the door.

"No, Tolbert, ya didn't do anything. He's just mad ya ain't comin' home."

"Oh," he breathed. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. A little grumpy, maybe, but he's fine."

Sally looked surprised when Ran'l returned to the room so soon, closing the door behind him.

"He didn't sound fine, Poppy," Tolbert muttered.

"I promise, Tolbert, he's fine."

"A'ight. I really hate t' cut off the conversation, but I've gotta go. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Will ya tell Bud—"

"Yeah, I'll tell him."

"Thank ya, Poppy. Bye."

"Bye."

Ran'l looked at Sally as he set the phone down, shaking his head.

"What happened?" Sally questioned, patting the spot beside her.

"He said no. Said he didn't care anymore n that he didn't want t' talk t' him. I don't get it. He wanted t' talk to him earlier." Ran'l sat down on the bed, scratching the back of his neck. "T' make it worse, Tolbert heard it and thought he'd done somethin'."

"He's eleven years old, Ran'l. Ya can't be too hard on him."

"That's not an excuse, Sally."

"He's still a boy, Ran'l. No matter how much he insists he's not, he is. It hurts him when Tolbert says he's goin' t' come home n then he doesn't. Bud's always been close t' him, ya know that as well as I do."

"We're gonna have t' do somethin', Sally."

"He's _upset. _He has ev'ry right t' be. He ain't seen Tolbert in almost three years, Ran'l, and every time he's promised Tolbert's going t' come home, Tolbert doesn't come home. How d'ya think that makes him feel?"

Ran'l exhaled deeply, shaking his head.

"I dunno, Sally. It just... God, I don't know what I'm gonna do. I tried t' let him talk to him."

"You're gonna let him be upset. And the next time ya talk t' Tolbert, ask him _before _Tolbert calls you. Okay?"

"Okay."

—

**_June 2013_**

Sally looked up at Bud as he entered the kitchen, smiling softly at him.

"Hey, baby. Ya want a cookie? Jus' came outta the oven."

Bud took one and mumbled his thanks, sitting down in one of the chairs at the small table they had in the kitchen.

"Is Tol gonna come home this time?"

"I don't know, honey. I really ain't heard much since he said he was gonna come home. He hasn't been able t' call as much as he usually does. Why don't ya talk to him?"

"Don't want to," Bud shrugged. "I doubt he'd want t' talk t' me anyways. I don't know anything about what he does over there. Poppy does."

"Ya ever think maybe he wants t' talk 'bout somethin' else?" Sally quirked a brow. "He wants t' come home, Bud. He can't do anything about it if they tell him he has to stay."

Bud hummed. He didn't know why they didn't just come right out and tell him what he already knew. He'd figured out that Tolbert wasn't living anymore and had tried to push through the grief, to hide it as much as he possibly could without them catching on.

It was _hard _to hide his grief. He didn't know why they weren't being honest with him, but he wished they would at least come up with a different excuse every time they told him Tolbert wasn't going to come home. Bud didn't know much about any of this, but he at least knew that it was hard for him to believe the same excuse for three years.

"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?"

"Hm? Oh... nothin', Mama."

Sally didn't necessarily believe him, but she wouldn't force him to talk to her. He was like Tolbert in that way — he couldn't be pressured into speaking. If anyone tried to press him, he'd clam up and wouldn't speak on the matter anymore.

"If you say so, baby," she murmured, eyeing him warily. "Want another cookie?"

"Sure, Mama."

—

Bud had been spending his evenings and Saturday afternoons organizing the never-ending files in the office. Every time he cleared one stack, it seemed that twenty more appeared in its place. Bud honestly didn't have a clue as to how his father could fit so many files in the relatively small office he had.

"Hey, Bud," Ran'l waved to him as he stepped inside, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"Hey, Poppy. Tol still comin' home?" Bud glanced up at him, a file in his hands.

"No," Ran'l sighed. "But he's gonna call t'night. Ya wanna talk to him?"

"No, that's okay," Bud declined, placing the file in a drawer of one of the filing cabinets that lined the office walls. "It's not the same."

"But ya'd still be talkin' to him. Ya could make sure he's alright, let him cheer ya up for a while. I don't ever see ya happy anymore, Bud."

"Ain't got anythin' t' be happy about," he retorted, shoving the drawer shut. Realizing how that sounded, he tried to fix it. "Not that you n Mama ain't done nothin' t' try t' make me happy! I just — I don't know, I can't be happy anymore. I don't know what's wrong wit' me, Poppy."

"There ain't nothin' wrong with ya, son."

"I heard what Mama said the other night," Bud said quickly. "'Bout me bein' diff'rent than usual n all. I know what she thinks it is. She thinks I've got somethin' wrong with my head, don't she?"

"She doesn't think you have somethin' wrong with your head," Ran'l sighed tiredly. "She just thinks you should talk t' Doc about it."

"What d'you think?"

"I think you're just fine, that you're still not used t' Tolbert not bein' here all the time. I don't think ya should tell Doc about it. There ain't a thing wrong with you. Why tell him?"

"Why does she want me t' tell him?" Bud's brows furrowed.

"I don't know, son," Ran'l answered honestly. "All she did was mention it and she ain't brought it back up. I'm not gonna get int' that conversation if I don't have to. It's gonna lead to an argument."

"Oh."

"But don't ya worry none, little man." Ran'l approached him and gently placed his hands on Bud's face. "You're perfect just the way ya are."

—

**_October 2013_**

Bud sat in his room, biting down on his lip. He looked at the phone in his right hand, the phone he'd received merely hours ago as a gift for his twelfth birthday, and released a shaky breath as he began to type out a text message.

_Hey. I just want to say I'm really sorry. There's nothing you could've done to talk me out of it. I'm really, really sorry, Poppy. I love you._

He pressed send and shut off his phone, placing it on the nightstand before grabbing the pill bottle he'd managed to steal from the medicine cabinet in the upstairs bathroom. He loosened the lid and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

Bud had already made the decision that he didn't want to live anymore. Why was he so nervous? He'd thought it out, had planned it down to the last second. There was no reason for him to be nervous.

He huffed in annoyance at himself and removed the lid, dumping some of the pills into his hand. It wasn't like he had anything to lose.

Bud didn't want to live in a world without Tolbert.

—

Jim sat beside his father in the waiting room, swallowing past the lump in his throat. Jim had never heard his father scream like that before; a scream filled with agony and pain and fear. He'd never really seen his father frightened before either, hadn't really seen the man cry. Or at least, he couldn't remember seeing Ran'l cry.

Jim excused himself and stood up, leaving the waiting room and going to the elevator. He went down to the first floor and swallowed thickly as he walked through the lobby, going outside and wiping at his eyes.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing Tolbert's number.

"Jim? What's wrong?" Fear was prominent in Tolbert's voice.

"Bert, Bud's tried t' kill himself," Jim whispered hoarsely. "He overdosed on some kind of medicine he found in the cabinet. _Oh God, _Bert!"

Jim crouched down, trying to control his emotions. He didn't like his emotions going haywire.

"Oh my God. _Oh my God._ Is he alright?!"

"I don't know," Jim admitted, sniffling. "I just — I came down t' call you and... oh God, Tolbert, I've never felt so scared in my life. I don't know what's goin' on with him, we ain't heard nothin' yet."

"Why the heck did he do it?" Tolbert asked with a trembling voice.

"We — we don't know. All—all Poppy got was a text sayin' that he was sorry n that he couldn't-a done anythin' t' talk him outta it an' that he loved him. He ain't b-been actin' right lately, but P—oppy swore he was fine."

It scared Tolbert to hear his older brother sound so frightened and worried. He'd never had Jim explain something to him in an anxious ramble before. Jim always knew what to do; he always knew the answers to Tolbert's questions, and Tolbert didn't like him not knowing them.

"Listen, I'm — I'm gonna try t' get a leave. I'll say it's a fam'ly emergency 'cause it is. Oh God, I just... I can't stay here knowin' he could be dyin'."

"There's — there's a good chance he won't die. He's got me real scared, Bert."

"I know. If I can get a leave, I'll see ya soon, okay?"

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too."

—

Bud groaned as he awoke, slowly forcing his eyes open. It took a few moments for his bleary vision to focus, his eyes landing on Calvin, who sat in the chair beside his bed. Bud blinked and licked his lips, his other senses slowly returning.

He could hear the heart monitor beside his bed beeping at a steady pace. He could feel Calvin's hands clasped around his, and he could feel the scratchy material of the hospital gown against his skin.

_He'd failed._

Tears welled in his eyes as he shook his head, wondering why he hadn't succeeded. There was no reason he shouldn't have succeeded at this.

"Hey, Buddy," Calvin spoke up, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Ya really scared us."

Bud's eyes shifted over to Calvin, but he didn't say anything.

"My God, why would ya do somethin' like that?"

Bud gave a shrug. He knew why, but if he hadn't been told about Tolbert's demise, it was likely the others didn't know anything about it either. He wouldn't be the one to tell them.

"L-listen, I'm gonna go let Jim come in. He really wants t' talk t' you."

He let his head loll to the side, his eyes flicking around the room and finding it to be boring. Bud had never liked hospitals and he didn't like being trapped in a hospital room either. He wondered how long he'd be stuck there when he noticed someone walking in the room.

"Bud, oh my God," Jim muttered, hurrying over to him. "Ya scared me, honey."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No, baby, it's okay. It's okay 'cause you're gonna be okay. Oh God, baby, don't scare me like that again," Jim rambled, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his baby brother into a tight embrace. He kissed his temple and held him, not wanting to let him go now that he knew he was going to be okay.

"I'm really sorry," Bud whimpered. "I jus' don't wanna live no more."

"Why?"

"Jus' don't. Not like I'm important or worth anything anyways. Ya'd be better off without me."

"No, I wouldn't be. I love you so much, Buddy. You're very important, ya hear me? You're so important t' me, t' all of us. You're important t' Tolbert."

Bud's chest caved with a heartbroken sob, him clinging to Jim.

"Bud? Honey, what's wrong? I want t' help, but I can't do that if ya don't talk t' me."

"T-Tolbert," he sobbed, drawing in a wheezing breath.

"What about him, baby?"

"H-he's d-dead, isn't he?"

"Oh no, honey, no. Tolbert's just fine, I talked to him earlier."

"Why — why hasn't he come home then? It's been three y-years!"

"'Cause they tell him he can't. He'll get approved for a leave, someone will have a family emergency or a death in their family or somethin' like that, an' they tell Tolbert he has t' stay. He wants t' come home, baby, he wants t' be here with ya. Here, I'll show ya."

Jim pulled out his phone and called Tolbert.

"Jim? Is he okay?! Is he—"

"Tolbert, slow down! He's fine. He's right here, he's still breathing."

"Bud's okay? He's not gonna die?"

"No, he's not gonna die. Tried mighty hard, but he didn't."

"Oh, thank God," Tolbert breathed. "Listen, I'll be home next week. I got approved for a leave and — and I swear, Jim, he's gonna get sick of lookin' at me."

"I doubt it's possible," Jim smirked in amusement, using his free hand to caress Bud's face. "Hang on a second."

Jim held the phone out to Bud, who bit on his lip before hesitantly taking it.

"Jim? Hello?"

"Tolbert?" he whispered meekly, almost as though he hadn't believed Jim when he'd told him that Tolbert was fine.

"Bud? Oh my God, baby. Hey, listen, I know — I know I've lied before, that I ain't been home in a real long time, but I _swear, _Bud, I'm comin' home this time. I am so sorry I lied t' you. I never meant to—"

"It's okay. You don't have t' apologize."

"Yes, I do. I feel like I do. I love you so much, darlin'. What'd ya do that for?"

"I... I thought you were dead," he confessed. "I just — I don't wanna live without you."

"Honey, where on earth did ya get that idea?"

"I thought — I thought Mama n Poppy were jus' tryin' t' keep it from me. I thought that was why ya ain't come home in three years."

"Oh, no, Buddy, no. I've wanted t' come home the last three years, I really have. It's just changed on me every time I thought I was gonna get t' come home. Why didn't ya just talk t' me? Or ask Jim? Ya know he won't lie to ya."

"I d-dunno. R-reckon I thought they'd do somethin' t' make me think you was okay since they weren't gonna tell me y' died. I dunno what I thought."

"That's okay, baby. It's been really hard for you, I know that. I'm sorry I haven't had the chance t' keep my promises. But I promise that this time, I'm comin' home. I'm so sorry, baby. If I'd known ya thought that, I woulda sent ya a letter or somethin'."

"'S fine."

"It's obviously _not _fine, Bud."

"I don't know why I did that," he croaked, his throat closing up.

"And that's okay. That's okay, Bud. When I come home next week, we'll sit down n talk about it, okay?"

"Okay. I love ya."

"I love ya too, baby. I'll see ya next week."

"Okay."

"I've gotta go. I love you."

"I love ya too."

Bud handed the phone back to Jim and sniffled.

"Why didn't ya tell me ya thought he was dead? I would've let you call him yourself," Jim murmured, pulling his fingers through Bud's long brunette hair.

"I just... I don't know. Reckon I thought that you wouldn't know either," he responded quietly, his voice trembling. "I'm real sorry. I don't know what got int' me."

"It's alright, Bud, it's alright. They're gonna keep ya a few days t' see if they can figure out what triggered it, but it's gonna be fine. One of us will be here as often as we can be."

"Why do I have t' stay here?"

"They're probably jus' gonna run a few tests or somethin' like that. I'm gonna be honest, Bud, I really think if ya woulda told Doc 'bout the way you were feelin' an' all that when it first started, ya wouldn't've done what ya did."

"But Poppy said—"

"I know what Poppy said, honey. I know that both of ya wanted t' believe that nothin' was diff'rent, but we all noticed it, Bud. Reckon I had a little too much hope that the thought of suicide would never cross your mind. I should've talked t' you when I noticed it."

"It's fine," Bud said swiftly. "This was my fault, no one else's. I didn't wanna live when I did it, Jim."

"I know. But listen ta me, a'ight? This family needs you. Tolbert McCoy needs you more than any of us do. If you ever get t' where ya feel that way again and ya don't wanna talk t' Tolbert for whatever reason ya may have, _call me. _Text me. I'll come pick you up and we'll sit on a backroad where no one'll bother us and talk about it. I want t' help you. But t' do that, Bud, ya've gotta let me help."

"I know that," his voice dropped in volume. "It's just really hard for me t' bother anybody when I know they have more important things—"

"Hey, nothing is more important than you," Jim stated firmly. "Why would ya think something like that?"

"'Cause it's true?" Bud's eyes flicked up and met Jim's. "I'm not very important, Jim. I know that, I'm okay with it. I don't — I don't think 's very important t' tell anyone what I think about or how I feel. I don't wanna bother — oh my God, I'm sorry."

"Nonono, keep talking. _Let me help you,_" Jim pleaded with him. "Just until Tolbert gets home. Then you can tell Tol all of this."

"I don't wanna bother him either!" Bud exclaimed.

"Buddy, you could never bother any of us. We wanna help, we do, but we can't do anything t' help if we don't know what's wrong."

Bud looked uncertain, lowering his gaze to his lap. He didn't want to bother anybody. He hadn't meant to scare anybody, either.

"Ya wanna talk to me?"

"I don't even know how I feel, Jim," he confessed. "It's like it's all just one big bundled up mess and I can't figure out how I feel."

"And that's okay. We can sit here and figure it out if you want to, I don't care. I ain't got any place t' be. I'm gonna stay here with ya t'night. We can talk all ya want."

"Thanks, Jim."

"Yer welcome, Buddy."

—

**_November 2013_**

Tolbert made his way through the airport, his eyes landing on Jim. He rushed over to him, hugging his older brother tightly.

"Hey, baby," Jim mumbled. "How ya doin'?"

"I've been worryin' a lot. How d'ya think I'm doin'?"

"I know. He gave us all a good scare, didn't he?"

Tolbert slowly nodded.

"Where is he?"

"He's still in the hospital. I told him I had t' go run a few errands and that I'd pick up a burger and some fries for him 'cause he refuses t' eat the hospital food."

"Can't say I blame him," Tolbert chuckled. "I wouldn't eat it either."

"But I gotta tell ya, Tolbert, they're startin' t' give him Symbyax. The way it looks, that's the only thing that's gonna work on him."

"That's awful strong for a twelve-year-old."

"I know, but... I don't think he'd be on Symbyax if he woulda listened t' Mama and told Doc about it when it started. We all knew somethin' was off, but he wouldn't say anything t' Doc 'cause Poppy told him he didn't think he needed to and that it was up t' him."

Tolbert hummed, falling into pace beside his older brother.

"But after stopping somewhere t' get him something t' eat, we go straight t' the hospital. They're mostly keepin' him t' see how he's gonna react t' the medicine they're puttin' him on. Said he'll likely be out day after t'morrow."

"Good. I don't think I've ever been this scared, Jim. I've never heard anything that just made my heart stop beatin' for a minute. I didn't know he thought I was dead or I woulda found some way t' show him I wa'n't."

"I know ya would've. Heck, I woulda let him call you from my phone if I knew he thought that. He didn't tell anybody. He's been grieving for over a year 'cause he thought Mama n Poppy were just tryin' t' hide it from him."

"Reckon I've got a lot t' catch up on?" Tolbert turned his head toward Jim.

"Yeah, you've got a lot t' catch up on."

—

Bud looked up as the door opened, expecting to see Jim.

"_Tolbert!_"

He got up and ran over to him, hugging him tightly.

"Oh my God, Tolbert!"

"Hey, baby," he laughed softly, pressing a kiss to Bud's temple. Bud stood even with his shoulders now, much to Tolbert's surprise. He hadn't seen him in (almost) four years, Tolbert didn't know why he'd expected him to be short. "Ya feelin' better?"

Bud nodded mutely. He felt much better now that he'd talked about it and knew that Tolbert was okay.

Bud's eyes scanned Tolbert, noticing that he had shaved.

"You shaved," he laughed a little, reaching out and touching Tolbert's face.

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded. "Ya like it?"

"No, I didn't say that. But... but ya look good. Ya don't look hurt or nothin', ya look jus' fine. Ya like kinda funny without yer beard, Tol."

"'Cause you're used t' seein' me with it?"

"Mhm."

"Well, I could say ya look kinda funny bein' as tall as ya are with long hair," Tolbert quipped. "I'm used t' you standin' at my stomach, not my shoulder. So, who ended up bein' the short one? I know he ain't the shortest no more."

"Pharmer," Ran'l replied with a laugh.

"Oh really?" Tolbert grinned, his blue eyes shining brightly. "I always thought he'd end up bein' kinda tall."

"Bud passed him up last year," Jim snorted, moving past them and sitting down. "I got ya some food, kiddo. Even got ya a milkshake."

"Oh my God, I love you," Bud muttered, shuffling over to Jim. Jim tried to suppress a laugh, handing the boy the paper bag and the cup. "Want somethin'?"

"Nah, kid. You ain't ate t'day."

"Poppy? Tol?"

"I'm good," Tolbert chuckled.

"I've gotta go. I'm sure I can trust the three of you?" Ran'l shot them all a look.

"We'll be fine, Poppy. Not like we can do anything in here anyways," Bud scoffed, sitting down on his bed.

Ran'l rolled his eyes and left, leaving the three boys alone.

"So... so when d'ya have t' go back this time?" Bud's eyes flicked up toward Tolbert before he swiftly averted his gaze again. "An' how long will it be b'fore I see you again?"

Tolbert sighed heavily (almost dramatically) and sat down in front of him.

"_Well, _I hate t' break it to ya, Buddy, but ya ain't gonna get rid of me this time." Bud's head whipped up. "I'm stayin' here. You're gonna get sick of lookin' at me."

"Y-you — you're not gonna go back?" Bud asked softly, his voice bordering a whisper.

"No," Tolbert shook his head. "I retired from the army this time. Spendin' four years over there was enough for me."

"Ya won't leave me again?"

"No, baby, I won't leave ya again," Tolbert assured him. "I swear, Bud, you're gonna get sick of lookin' at me."

"Unlikely," Jim snorted.

"Yeah," Bud nodded in agreement, laughing a little. "'S prob'ly gonna be t' other way around."

—

Tolbert and Jim had left after Roseanna arrived. It was agreed that Tolbert would go home, put his clothes away and shower while he was there before coming back and staying with Bud.

"You enjoy scarin' me outta my wits?" Roseanna quipped as she sat on the bed beside him, playing with his long hair.

"That wasn't my intention."

"No. Your intention was t' die."

Bud exhaled deeply through his nostrils, his eyes meeting her's for a split second. He licked his lips and glanced at her again.

"Y-yeah," he admitted quietly. "I wanted t' die."

"_Why?_" Roseanna whispered.

"I thought... I thought Tolbert was dead. I didn't wanna live without him. I mean, it ain't like I'm important anyways. Ya'd be better off without me, all of ya would. I don't know why ev'ryone's actin' like they care so much. I'm just... not important. I'm not good enough. I never have been n I never will be. I'm sorry I failed."

"Hey, stop that," she commanded shakily. "And what about us, huh? What about the ones that want ya here, Bud? Does your existence really depend on Tolbert that much?!"

Bud hung his head, closing his eyes and opting to stay silent. He blanched when Roseanna drew her hand back, letting it fall to her lap.

"And what're ya gonna do when he really does die, Bud? Ya gonna OD again? Are ya just gonna live in his shadow all your life?"

"Stop," he mumbled.

"What about if the two of ya get into it an' he don't wanna talk t' you for a while? Ya gonna do this again? Are ya gonna sit around n try t' kill yourself every time somethin' happens with Tolbert?!"

"_Stop it!_" Bud raised his voice. "It's not all about Tolbert. Can't ya see that I'm worthless?! That I ain't no good for anybody in this dagon family?! Why can't you understand that? Why do ya have t' throw it up t' me that I didn't want t' live without Tolbert? None of ya want me, I _know _ya don't!"

"What the heck are ya talkin' about?! Of course, we want you!"

"No, ya don't," he chuckled bitterly. "Ya don't want me. Ya just don't want me gettin' rid of myself so none of ya feel guilty about it."

"What are you talkin' about?! We love you very much, Bud. We don't want you killin' yourself because we love you and we want you here. We want ya with us, Bud!"

"There ain't no reason for anybody t' want me, Roseanna! Lord knows I ain't ever done anythin' t' make anyone proud. All I've done my entire life is cause trouble. I wish I never woulda sent that dagon text t' Poppy. He never woulda found me if I hadn't sent him that dagon text!"

"What are ya talkin' about?" Roseanna lowered her voice, her brows knitting together. "You've made us proud, ya ain't caused no trouble. We love you, Bud, we really do. We don't want you dead."

"They don't want me dead 'cause I'm a free babysitter," he grumbled. "_That's it. _That's all I'm good for, Rose! Oh, forget it! You're never gonna understand."

"Then help me understand!" she exclaimed. "Can't ya see I don't want ya dead, Buddy? I don't know what I'd do without ya."

She brought a hand up and gently rubbed the side of his face, Bud subconsciously leaning into her touch. He'd never felt so many emotions at the same time and it was getting to him.

"You'd have a better life," he whispered hoarsely. "Ya don't need someone like me. No one needs me, I know that. Accepted it a long time ago. What diff'rence does it make when I'm constantly messin' somethin' up an' tickin' someone off?"

"Ev'rybody gets ticked off ev'ry now and then, Bud. Don't mean we don't need ya."

"Someone's always ticked off at me," he confessed tearfully. "Don't care what I say or what I do, someone's always ticked off at me in this dagon fam'ly. I jus' don't feel right, ya know? I don't feel like I b'long here anymore."

"Can I... can I try t' explain this to ya?"

"Sure, knock yourself out."

"The boys are usually mad at someone else n take it out on you. I tell 'em all the time t' stop doin' that 'cause they ain't got no good reason for it, but they don't ever listen t' me. Heck, Bud, I'm guilty of doin' that to ya. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. Yer makin' it out like ya did somethin' terr'ble n ya ain't done a thing."

"Bud, no one should treat you that way."

"It's fine," he said quickly. "No one has t' apologize for the way they treat me. It's okay. There's nothin' t' apologize for."

"Yes, there is. I did wrong treatin' you that way. I never shoulda done that."

"It's fine. I don't blame ya one bit. I ain't nobody important, ain't got no reason t' even be here, yet somehow I manage t' mess up again and I'm still alive. I don't know how I messed that up."

"I've never heard Poppy scream the way he did when he found ya. Just — just so much fear and pain in a scream that came from someone I've always seen as someone who's fearless. I've never heard him pray like that, either. Jus' beggin' God t' let you live, that he was sorry he'd convinced ya that nothin' was wrong with ya an' ya shouldn't've told anybody anything."

Bud turned his head, his face expressionless as he listened to her.

"An' now that I think on it, I'd never seen him cry b'fore that. Or at least, I don't remember ever seeing him cry. He's gotten himself into a habit of tellin' all of us that he loves us ev'ry time we see him. An' he hugs us, kisses our cheek or our forehead, just... so _diff'rent _from how Poppy usually is."

Bud bit down on his lip and gazed at her.

"So... so what yer sayin' is that I broke him?" he murmured, wiping at his burning eyes. (They burned from all of the tears he'd shed earlier.)

"No, honey, no. He ain't broken. He's just actin' a little different right now. It's a good different, I like it. I think he's finally realized that ya shoulda told someone when ya started feelin' that way."

"You've always been his favorite," Bud mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest. "You will _always _be his fav'rite. Jus' like Tolbert will always be his fav'rite son and Mama's fav'rite outta all of us."

"What's that got t' do with anything? They still love every single one of us."

"Poppy's never come right out n said it to me, but I know he wants me t' be more like him. I'm his namesake, I _should_ be more like him. I'm never gonna make him proud. I ain't done nothin' but bring shame to his name and... and I wouldn't blame him for regrettin' me. Or regrettin' givin' me his name. I can never be who he wants me t' be. It hurts. It hurts knowin' I'm never gonna live up t' Poppy's expectations of me. I can't help the way I am, though. I love him, I really do, but — he don't need a son like me, Rose. He needs someone more like him; someone that can make him proud. That's never gonna be me."

"Oh, Bud, honey, Poppy loves you so much. He don't care that ya ain't like him. And honestly, Bud, I don't know who his fav'rite son is. Why would ya think that Poppy ain't proud of you?"

"Ain't done nothin' t' make him proud," he gave a half-hearted shrug. "I certainly didn't make him proud when I overdosed. Ain't made him proud at all. It's okay, I know I ain't made anyone proud of me. Why would ya be proud of someone who's worthless?"

"You're not worthless. Ya make us proud all the time, Bud."

Bud, deciding not to argue anymore, said, "Whatever ya say, Roseanna."

—

Bud was released the next day. He'd been thrilled and had spent the rest of the week in the house, talking with Tolbert and helping Sally out when need be.

On Sunday, Bud stood in the parking lot after Sunday meeting, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. He'd decided to dress down that week, wearing a polo shirt and his nicest pair of jeans with his hair slicked back. His father had said it was alright, so Bud didn't think anything of it and went the way he was.

He didn't know how the women of the church heard about what he'd done. He didn't know how they knew everything that went on in the Tug Valley, but he didn't really care enough to try to figure it out either. All he knew was that they'd heard about it and now he was the topic of their gossip.

"Can ya believe him? Overdosing for no good reason. If he's that unhappy, I'd disown him and send him t' live with his brother!"

Bud involuntarily flinched. He didn't want to be disowned. He wanted to stay right where he was.

"Oh, he's just a kid. Ya know how kids are when they want attention. They go to extremes."

"Kid or not, I wouldn't have a boy like that in my house. Think of the younger children. What're they gonna think of him now that he's tried t' kill himself? And what about Ol' Ran'l? He's always been one that believes suicide is selfish."

"And it's not like Bud's done anything t' make him proud. I wouldn't care t' say Ran'l regrets him and that he regrets givin' him his name. He ain't done nothin' but bring shame to it. And with what he did, he'll never be able t' make Ran'l proud of him now. He's done nothing but prove he's a selfish, self-centered, spoiled brat."

Bud's throat constricted as he clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to keep from crying. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? He was doing his best, but even that wasn't good enough.

Bud gasped sharply when someone placed a hand on his shoulder, his head whipping toward them. He relaxed when he saw Ran'l, swallowing thickly and averting his gaze. What if Ran'l _did _think he was selfish? Would it make him treat Bud differently than he did his siblings?

Bud's eyes snapped down to the ground in a vain attempt to hide the tears that glistened in them. He tightly folded his arms over his chest, his right hand subconsciously rubbing his left arm as he tried to focus on anything but his father.

"Bud? Hey, what's wrong, little man?" Ran'l queried, concern prominent in his tone.

"Nothin'," he responded swiftly. "I'm fine."

"Ya promised me ya'd talk t' me when somethin' was botherin' ya, Bud."

"It's nothin' that I wanna discuss where ev'ryone can hear," Bud lowered his voice.

"Well, I don't know about him bein' a selfish, self-centered, spoiled brat, but I do know that he's made himself a bad influence on his younger sisters. Who steals medicine outta the cabinet just so they can overdose after being completely fine that day?"

Ran'l sighed and wrapped his arms around Bud.

"They been talkin' 'bout ya?"

Bud nodded mutely.

"Why, if I was Ran'l, I'd disown him! A boy like that has no place around small chil'ren. First, it's something like this, and then it's finding something to "numb the pain". That boy don't know what pain is!"

Ran'l could see the way Bud fought to keep his face straight. He could see how hard he was trying to act like it didn't bother him.

"Why don't you go on t' the car, hm? I'll be there in a minute."

"Poppy—"

"_Bud. _Go to the car now. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

—

Bud had tucked himself against Ran'l's side, his head lying on his father's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Neither one of them had said anything in the five minutes Ran'l had been in Bud's room, both reluctant to break the silence that hovered over them. Bud didn't want to know what Ran'l thought of him and Ran'l didn't want to know the answers to his questions.

Bud was certain of one thing, though — if one of them didn't start a conversation soon, he was going to end up falling asleep. Ran'l was playing with his hair and it felt nice; it made him relax.

Ran'l glanced down at him before he scratched Bud's scalp, earning a content hum from the boy. Ran'l chuckled and kissed the crown of his head.

"That feel good or somethin'?" he teased lightheartedly. Bud only nodded in response. "So, ya wanna tell me what's goin' on in that head of yours?"

Bud shifted slightly and sighed heavily.

"Jus' been thinkin'," he murmured. "Nothin' important."

"That's funny. Roseanna told me ya said the same thing about yourself."

Bud tensed. Ran'l knew what he'd said at the hospital?

"Yeah, well, I ain't nothin' important either. I never have been. In a big fam'ly like ours, there's usually at least one person who ain't no good. I'm sorry, Poppy. I'm sorry I ain't no good."

"Hey, you're plenty of good and you're _very _important. I happen t' love ya just the way ya are. Why would ya think yer not important, hm?"

"'Cause I'm not? No one needs me. There's a lotta people swearin' that they want me here or whatever, but they don't seem t' realize that they _don't. _They jus' don't wanna feel guilty if I do get rid of m'self. I take the brunt of their anger when I ain't even done nothin', Poppy. They take it out on me when they get mad at someone else. I'm not important."

"You are _very _important, Randolph McCoy. Your older brother really needs you. Ya don't realize it, Bud, but you're helpin' him. He's focusing on you, not what he saw and heard overseas. You're helping him forget about it for a little while."

"Tolbert don't need me either. None of ya do. I'm no good for anybody in this family, Poppy, I know I'm not. No one needs me. It's okay, I know that an' I'm okay with it. I'm real sorry. I'm sorry for ev'rythin' I've done, Poppy. An' I'm _so sorry _I failed."

"Hey, no, don't apologize. Ya ain't done nothin' t' apologize for, little man. You're good for all of us. We want you n we need you, we love ya very much. Don't apologize for failin', Bud. I'm glad yer still alive."

"Why? Ain't like I've ever made ya proud," he scoffed.

"Ya make me proud all the time, Bud."

"It's a'ight, Poppy, y' ain't gotta lie t' me. I know ya ain't proud o' me. I know ya want me t' be more like ya. 'M sorry I ain't what ya want me t' be. I try, though. I try s' hard t' be more like you."

"Hey, I'm proud of ya, I really am. And I love you just the way ya are. Why on earth would ya think I don't love ya this way?"

"I don't know. I've heard ya talkin' t' Mama b'fore... heard ya say ya wish I was more like you. I've heard that about five times now. I'm tryin' t' be like you, Poppy. I want t' be like you."

Ran'l sighed heavily.

"Son, I don't want ya t' be anythin' that what ya are. Yer amazin' the way ya are, ya don't need t' change. Ya don't have t' try t' act like me, Buddy. I think yer jus' fine the way ya are."

"I don't feel that way. I feel completely _worthless, _Poppy."

"I wish ya didn't," Ran'l murmured. "I wish ya knew just how much ya mean to me, son. I'd tell ya, but I can't figure out how t' put it into words. But I love you. I love you a lot, Randolph McCoy. Ya make me proud t' be your Poppy every day. Ya make yer Mama n older brothers proud, too. Jim n Tolbert think the world of ya, Bud, and they are very proud of ya. They love ya t' death."

"Well... hopefully not t' death," Bud tried to joke. Ran'l chuckled and kissed the top of his head.

"You know what I mean."

"I know. I was tryin' t' be funny."

"It was kinda funny."

"Poppy, who's your fav'rite son?" Bud asked suddenly, catching his father off-guard.

"Why ya wanna know that?"

"Well... well, Roseanna's your fav'rite outta all of us. I think Tolbert's your fav'rite son. I already know he's Mama's fav'rite outta all of us. I don't know, I guess I jus' wanna know fer sure."

"Why d'ya think Tolbert's my fav'rite?" Ran'l questioned, continuing to pull his fingers through Bud's long locks of honey-brown hair.

"I dunno. He jus' seems t' be yer fav'rite," Bud shrugged.

"Well, he ain't. You are."

Bud lifted his head and looked up at him strangely.

"You messin' wit' me?"

"No," Ran'l shook his head. "I ain't messin' wit'cha, Buddy."

Bud placed his head on Ran'l's chest again, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around his father's middle.

"Not s' sure ya want me as yer fav'rite, Poppy. I can't make ya proud."

"You make me proud every day, Bud. I'm proud of you."

"Ain't nothin' t' be proud of. I'm a terr'ble son. Y-ya gave me your name n I ain't ever done nothin' but sh-shame it, I'm nothin' like what ya want me t' be, I'm nothin' but a bad influence on the girls n I'm _selfish._"

"Hey, you've _never _shamed my name, Bud. Ya ain't a bad influence on the girls and ya ain't selfish. You're a wonderful son, Bud McCoy. You're always the first one t' volunteer when me or your Mama needs help with somethin'. You make us proud without even realizin' yer doin' it. It's the little things ya do, Buddy. Ya don't have t' go move a mountain t' make us proud of you. Don't listen t' what them women say about you, son. You're anything but selfish, Bud.

"And I hope that one of these days, you see yourself the way I see you — a good-hearted boy that deserves the world. You're one of my best kids, Bud. Just because you did what ya did don't mean yer selfish. It don't mean that yer a bad influence or that you're a terrible son. You're not any of those things. You're my baby boy, Bud, and ya don't have t' be just like me t' make me proud. I'm proud of ya the way ya are now. And I love you. I love ya more than ya could ever imagine, kiddo. Ya gave me a good scare."

"'M sorry, Poppy," he murmured, his voice trembling terribly.

"It's okay, Buddy. It's okay 'cause you're still alive. Ya've got ya somethin' that's gonna help ya with it an' yer still tryin' t' get used t' it. It's gonna take a lil while 'fore it gets t' be better when it comes t' yer thoughts n all that. An' even after ya get used t' the medicine, yer gonna have some real rough days. Talk t' one of us when ya have bad days, Bud. We wanna help ya, son, but we can't if ya don't talk to us."

"Mkay, Poppy. I promise I will."

"I love ya, Buddy."

"I love y' too, Poppy."

—

"Mama, have you seen Bud?" Tolbert asked as he entered the kitchen, grabbing a cookie off of the plate.

"He's upstairs in y'all's room. Yer Poppy's up there too."

"Thank ya," Tolbert grinned. He took a bite of the cookie in his hand. "Really good, by the way."

"Thanks," Sally laughed, watching him run off.

Tolbert went upstairs and opened the door to the room, finding both his father and his little brother sleeping soundly. He huffed in amusement and shook his head, deciding to leave them alone.

—

**_December 2013_**

Tolbert looked up as Jim entered the room. Jim closed the door and made his way over to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it.

"So, how'd it go t'day?"

"Oh God, Jim, the place is gorgeous," Tolbert spoke softly, as Bud was curled against him, sleeping.

"Ya gonna buy it?" Jim quirked a brow.

"...I might," he admitted. "I mean, it's nothin' 'gainst Bud! Lord knows I love the boy more than anythin', but... but I need my own place, Jim."

Bud stirred and Tolbert looked down at him, relaxing when he saw that he still appeared to be asleep.

"Hey, I get it. I know ya love him, Bert, but ya can't spend the rest of yer life in this dagon house 'cause of it. Get ya a place of yer own. Yer gonna drive yourself crazy if ya don't, Tolbert."

"It feels... I don't know, Jim. I don't even know how it feels. I jus' want t' get outta here, y'know? Be on my own, have my own place. That's all I want."

"And ya have ev'ry right t' want that, Tolbert. Yer old enough t' move out on your own if ya want. They can't stop ya."

"I know. It's just—"

"It's just that ya can't decide if that's what ya think is best or not. This is about you n no one else. Forget 'bout ev'ryone else for a minute n make a decision fer you."

Tolbert hung his head, rubbing Bud's arm absentmindedly. Jim noticed and sighed, gently smacking the side of Tolbert's head.

"Ya can't make every decision based on what he wants, Bert."

"I never said—"

"I know what's keepin' ya from buyin' a place n movin' out of here. Well, maybe I should say _who. _Buy a dang house, Tolbert. He can come over an' stay with ya. You don't have t' stay here if ya don't want to."

"I don't want t' do him like that," Tolbert muttered, looking down at the sleeping twelve-year-old. "I don't want him thinkin' I don't wanna be around him."

"Then take him with you t' look at it again. Get his opinion on it if ya want, I don't really care. Ya still have the key, don't ya?"

"Yeah. Didn't have the chance t' take it back 'cause I had t' pick him up from school."

"Then take him t' look at it t'morrow. Trust me, Tolbert, if he knew you were only gonna move five minutes down the road, he wouldn't care."

Tolbert exhaled deeply, licking his lips and nodding.

"A'ight. We'll try it."

—

That evening, Tolbert had called the real estate agent and explained the situation to him. The man had been understanding and had agreed to let Tolbert keep the key so he could show Bud the house the next morning.

So when Bud awoke the next morning and shuffled out of the room to go take a shower, Tolbert got up and dressed. Bud shuffled back in a few moments later, dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans.

"Hurry up n get your shoes on. I'm gonna take ya somewhere."

Bud's brows furrowed.

"Where?"

"You'll find out when we get there. Shoes n phone, come on."

Tolbert's hand clapped his shoulder before Tolbert left the room. He went downstairs, whistling, and nearly collided with his father.

"Well, you're in a good mood," Ran'l remarked.

"For now. Might not be when we get back."

"Why not?" Ran'l asked.

"Gonna take him n show him that house 'm thinkin' 'bout buyin'. It's just... I dunno, Poppy, it just don't feel right here anymore."

"I know. Anytime he wants t' come over, or you want him t' come over, he can go. I don't care. Ya don't have t' have his approval for everything, Tolbert," Ran'l pointed out.

"I reckon not," Tolbert mused, the corner of his lip turning upward. "But it's nice t' know that he knows he can come over whenever he wants. And really, I don't mean t' be rude when I say it, but his opinion is the only one I really care about. I want his opinion on the place."

Ran'l couldn't help but laugh at him.

"Ya ain't bein' rude, Tolbert. Yer bein' honest. There's a diff'rence, son."

Bud came downstairs then, his eyes flicking between Tolbert and Ran'l.

"Hey, kiddo. Ya ready?"

"Guess so."

"That's good enough," Tolbert shrugged, heading toward the door. "We'll be back later, Poppy."

"Alright."

—

"Why're you pullin' off here?" Bud inquired, looking over at Tolbert.

"'Cause we're gonna go look at this house."

Tolbert heard Bud let out a shaky breath.

"You movin' out?"

"I'm thinkin' about it."

"Why?" Bud demanded.

"Because it doesn't feel like I belong there anymore," Tolbert replied, shutting off the engine to his truck. "But that don't mean a thing. You can come stay when ya want, as long as ya want. I don't care if ya practically live with me. What I do care about is your opinion on the place. So, here's the key. Go unlock the door for me, will ya?"

Bud nodded and took the key, sliding out of the truck and heading for the front door. Tolbert got out as well and pocketed his keys, catching up with Bud.

"Why do you want my opinion?" Bud glanced up at him.

"Because I happen t' care about your opinion. Don't really care 'bout anyone else's. Well, maybe Jim, Mama, n Poppy, but I care about yours the most."

"Why?" Bud laughed breathlessly.

"'Cause yer my fav'rite an' I want t' know what you think?"

"You're ridiculous sometimes, you know that?"

Bud unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside.

"Woah. I've never seen a house so... _empty._"

"'Cause ya ain't ever been out t' look at houses. Jim took me with him when he started lookin' for a place of his own."

Tolbert closed the door and motioned for Bud to follow him, leading him to the kitchen first.

"Oh, really? Why'd he do that?"

"I don't really know, kiddo. Reckon he just didn't want t' go on his own."

"Mmm..."

"Anyways, let me show ya the rest of the house. I think you'll like it."

—

"'S a nice place, Tol."

"I thought it was," Tolbert shrugged. "And it's what, maybe five minutes away? I can easily come get ya any time ya wanna come over."

"Yeah? Y' promise?"

"I promise. And hey, you're almost old enough t' drive yourself. But even then, if ya ever get t' where ya jus' don't feel like drivin', text me or call me. I don't care."

"Okay. It's... weird."

"Weird that I'm movin' out?" Tolbert glanced at him, his eyes flicking back toward the road.

"Yeah," Bud nodded. "I don't — I don't know, it feels really weird knowin' that ya ain't gonna be there anymore."

"Honey, I'm not movin' out t'day. And I've at least gotta get a bed and all the lights workin'. And the water. So even if I _do _buy that house, you're still gon' have t' put up wit' me for a lil while."

Bud laughed softly, shaking his head.

"I don't put up with you. I like bein' around you. Ya don't treat me like I'm made of glass. Ya make me feel normal. And — and I know 'm not. There's nothin' normal about me, but ya make me feel like I'm jus' like ev'ryone else."

"I would never treat ya like yer made of glass. Even if ya broke every dagon bone in that body of yours, I wouldn't treat you like you're made of glass. And the heck are you talkin' 'bout, kid? You're normal."

"I don't — I've got somethin' wrong with my head. That's not normal," Bud argued.

"You have _depression. _It's a literal illness, Bud. Don't discredit it as somethin' that's wrong with your head. There is nothing wrong with the way ya are, Bud."

Bud looked over at him, shifting in his seat.

"I guess," he mumbled. "It feels that way, though. Ya know what the ladies at church said 'bout me?"

"What?" Tolbert's eyes flicked over and met his for a split second.

"They... they said that they wouldn't have a boy like me in their house. Said that I overdosed for no good reason an' that if I was that unhappy, they'd disown me n send me t' live wit' my brother, that I did it for attention. That Poppy's always thought suicide is selfish an' I'm a selfish, self-centered, spoiled brat. And I'm a bad influence on the girls. Said I ain't ever done nothin' t' make Poppy proud n that I never will; that I've done nothin' but shame his name.

"Apparently, I don't know what pain is. I don't know what it feels like t' have my heart shatter in my chest at the mere thought... Never mind."

Bud shifted again and sniffled.

"Those women never have known how t' mind their own dagon business. They think they're above everybody, honestly. They take somethin' an' twist it any way they want, no matter if it's the truth or not. I don't know how they found out about that... no one else knows about it."

"I'd say they do by now," Bud spoke softly. "They said I did it for no reason; that I was completely fine that day."

"Well, obviously you weren't or you wouldn't've done that," Tolbert stated, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "My heart completely _stopped _when Jim told me what happened. I'd never been so scared in my life, Bud. I wish I woulda known that ya thought that. I wish someone woulda told me you were actin' diff'rent. I would've found some way t' communicate with you."

"It's fine," Bud shook his head. "I reckon my brain overworks itself. I convinced myself that you were dead. I had myself convinced that the reason Poppy wasn't lettin' me talk t' ya an' the reason ya wasn't comin' home was b'cause you'd gotten killed and they didn't want t' tell me. So I grieved and I hid the grief as much as I could. And it became too much. So I decided t' kill myself. It didn't work. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not."

"It's a very good thing that it didn't work," Tolbert said swiftly. "I don't — _God, _I can't lose you. Ya don't know how much ya mean t' me, kiddo. I love you."

"Love ya too, Tol."

—

**_November 2017_**

Bud entered Tolbert's home and sighed, closing the door behind him. He walked down the hall to what he'd claimed as his bedroom, opening the door and flicking on the lights.

Tolbert had bought the house shortly after showing it to Bud. The place had two bedrooms and one bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room. Compared to the house that Bud lived in currently, it was small, but he liked it. He preferred staying with Tolbert most nights.

There was no commotion in the middle of the night because one of his brothers had decided to try to get down the stairs in the dark, no one sneaking into his room without him knowing it and scaring him out of his wits, and no one giving him wary looks every time he went to his room or went to the bathroom.

Tolbert trusted him. There was no other explanation for it than that — Tolbert trusted him while his parents were still wary about it. Jim trusted him as well, had even tried to reason with their parents that it had been nearly four years and Bud was talking to Tolbert about everything. There wasn't anything Tolbert didn't know about his younger brother now that he'd come back home.

Bud wasn't sure why he trusted Tolbert as much as he did; maybe it was because he knew that Tolbert would keep his word and wouldn't breathe a word about it to another living soul. Maybe it was because Tolbert had never given Bud a reason not to trust him. Or maybe it was because of the bond between them — a special bond that Bud didn't feel with any of his other brothers, no matter how much he loved them. There was a bond between him and Tolbert that he didn't feel with anyone else.

He wasn't sure why he felt the bond with Tolbert, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Tolbert was trustworthy and he didn't judge Bud on the bad days. He usually let him curl up against him or just sat in Bud's room and talked with him, trying to help him as much as he could. There were days that Bud felt that he couldn't get out of bed, that he couldn't get up long enough to take a shower or eat. And Tolbert was always there, trying to help as much as he could when Bud felt that way.

Bud bit down on his lip as he sat down on the bed, his eyes flicking toward the door. He had the sinking feeling that it was going to be a bad night, and while he didn't want to bother Tolbert with his petty problems, he felt that he had to keep the true extent of his depression hidden from the rest of the family.

It wasn't that they'd done anything to make him feel that way — it was that Bud wasn't comfortable with them knowing just how much he struggled every day. He wasn't comfortable with his older brothers and younger sisters giving him odd looks when he felt like staying in bed all day long, he wasn't comfortable with talking about it to Ran'l and Sally, he wasn't comfortable with crying in front of any of them. He wasn't comfortable showing how he truly felt around them.

"Hey, baby," Tolbert greeted, leaning against the doorway. "What're you thinkin' 'bout?"

"Lotta things," Bud murmured in response. "Can I ask ya somethin'?"

"Ya know ya can, Buddy."

"D'ya think Poppy'd get mad at me if he found out I've been hidin' how bad it really is from him?"

"I think he might be a little upset, but he'd understand. Believe it or not, Bud, Poppy understands. He probably knows ya ain't bein' completely honest with him an' there ain't a thing wrong with it. You talk t' people you're comfortable with. I don't care who it is, Bud, they have no right t' force ya t' talk if ya don't want to."

"I dunno, Tol, I'm just... I'm not _comfortable _talkin' t' anyone but you about it. I don't — I don't know why 'm like that. It bothers me, it bothers me so bad. I jus' wanna feel like I can talk t' anybody I want to, but I don't. I don't feel like I can talk t' my own _parents, _Tol!"

Tolbert crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling Bud close and wrapping his arms around him tightly.

"Hey, you're okay," Tolbert cooed softly. "It's okay, baby. You don't have t' feel like you can talk t' ev'rybody. Maybe one or two people. It's okay, Bud, you don't have t' feel bad for the way ya feel."

Bud leaned against Tolbert, closing his eyes when Tolbert started to pull his fingers through his hair.

"I feel so bad," Bud mumbled, his voice trembling. "They didn't do anythin' t' make me feel this way. I should feel like I can talk to my parents about anything, but I don't, and I feel so bad for it."

"Don't feel bad for it, Buddy. You have the right t' talk to whoever you wanna talk to. It don't have t' be Mama n Poppy, or Jim, or me. It's whoever you're comfortable with. Heck, if ya wanted t' talk t' Ali n Rose, they'd gladly listen to ya. It don't matter who you talk to, Bud. We just want t' make sure you're okay."

"I talk t' Pharmer sometimes," Bud admitted. "He never tells anybody anythin' I tell him. I talk t' him when I don't wanna bother you."

"Ya don't bother me, Bud. I want t' help you. So does Jim n Pharmer n everyone else in this crazy family of ours. If ya ever find that ya can't talk to me or Pharmer, talk t' someone else. They won't tell anybody. They know ya don't want 'em to."

Bud hummed, taking hold of Tolbert's hand and tracing imaginary designs on the back of it.

"It scares me sometimes."

"What does?"

"The thought of not knowin' who t' talk to. I'm not sure what I'll do if you n Pharmer get mad at me at the same time. You're the only two I talk to."

"Well, let's hope it never comes t' that. Even if I am mad at ya, you can still talk to me. I won't ever say ya can't talk to me, Buddy. It scares me too. The thought of losing you scares me more than anythin'."

"I'm sorry I gave you a reason t' be scared."

"I was worried about that long before you had your suicide attempt," Tolbert told him, his grip tightening slightly. "Guess I have the tendency t' worry for no good reason."

"That's okay. I do it too. I can convince myself of somethin' in less than five minutes. Like someone's in the house or somethin' like that. I've done it before when I was home by myself. I don't get left home anymore, though. Poppy don't trust me yet."

"It's not that he doesn't trust you. It's just that he's _scared, _Bud. He don't wanna lose ya either, baby. You're his little man," Tolbert teased lightheartedly, earning a huff and an eye roll from Bud.

"I ain't little. 'M nearly as tall as you n Jim!"

Tolbert laughed at him, ducking his head and kissing the boy's temple.

"Yeah, you're gettin' tall, kiddo. I love you."

"That was random, but I love you too, weirdo."

"Be nice."

"That is bein' nice, old man."

"_Hey!_"

—

Bud gasped sharply as he awoke, lurching to a sitting position. He threw the covers off and hurried out of the room, going down the hall and opening the door to Tolbert's room.

To his surprise, Tolbert was propped up against the headboard, the light from his TV being the only light in the room.

"Hey, baby. You okay?" Tolbert's face pinched into a concerned expression.

"Y-yeah, yeah," Bud nodded swiftly. "I just... I'm sorry. I didn't know you were awake."

"Does that make a diff'rence?" Tolbert quirked a brow.

"Reckon not," he forced out, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"C'mere," Tolbert instructed, stretching out his arm.

Bud hesitantly approached and climbed on the bed, tucking himself against Tolbert's side.

"So, what were ya doin' peekin' in my room?" Tolbert asked as he adjusted the covers.

"I was jus' makin' sure yer okay," he admitted, his face flushed a vibrant pink.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"It was just a stupid dream, I'm sorry. I just... I had t' make sure you were okay, Tol."

"That's okay, baby," Tolbert assured him. "I understand the dreams. There's times I wake up in the middle of the night n check on you 'cause of a dream that I had."

"It makes me feel ridiculous. A dream shouldn't scare me that much."

"An' sometimes yer mind plays a trick on ya an' ya don't know if it was real or not," Tolbert countered. "I don't mind ya comin' in here. Even if it's jus' 'cause ya can't sleep or ya don't wanna be alone."

"Hey, Tol."

"Hm?"

"You're amazing," Bud breathed, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. "'M real tired."

"Then go t' sleep. I don't mind ya stayin' in here."

"Thanks. Love you."

"Love you too, baby."

—

Bud ended up sleeping with his back facing Tolbert. He had one arm stuffed under his pillow, the other tucked against his chest, holding the covers in place.

What he didn't expect was to wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of someone pulling in the driveway. Without a second thought, he reached behind him and smacked at Tolbert, causing his older brother to jerk awake.

"What?" Tolbert mumbled, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand.

"Listen," Bud whispered.

Tolbert shot his baby brother an odd look before hearing someone knock on the front door.

"Stay here, you understand me?"

"Mhm."

Tolbert got up and left the room, closing the door behind him. Bud's heart raced in his chest, a thousand thoughts crossing his mind, and not one of them being good. Bud tried to believe that it was nothing; that whoever was at the door was someone they knew, but he just couldn't force himself to believe it.

Bud sat up, turning on the lamp that sat on the nightstand. He wouldn't move; he'd told Tolbert that he wouldn't move.

The door opened to reveal Tolbert and Roseanna, the latter drenched from the storm that raged outside.

"Rosie?" Bud blinked. "The heck are you doin' out in this?!"

He got up and rushed over to her.

"Didn't know where else t' go," she whispered so softly, Bud barely heard her. "Johnse... he don't want me anymore."

"Oh, Rosie," he breathed, pulling his older sister into a tight hug.

"Bud, you're gonna—"

"I don't care. Oh my God, Rose, what happened?"

"I don't really know. I was just told I had to leave and... and I know Poppy wouldn't be very happy with me showin' up this late, so I thought..."

"I'll get ya some dry clothes," Bud murmured. "You can sleep in my room."

"What? No—"

"I was sleepin' in here anyways. It's a really bad night for both of us, huh?"

"Reckon so," she murmured.

"Hey, don't cry. He ain't worth it."

Roseanna coughed a laugh, wiping at her tears.

"God, I love you, kid."

"I thought you were s'pposed t' hate me," Bud quipped as he moved past her, earning another laugh.

"See, I told ya I knew how t' cheer ya up a little," Tolbert remarked.

Bud rolled his eyes and went into his room, flicking the light switch and going over to his dresser. He found a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, pulling them out before returning to Roseanna and Tolbert.

"Here ya go."

"Thank ya, darlin'," Roseanna smiled sadly.

"No problem, Rose."

—

Three uneventful days passed. Bud was still staying with Tolbert, as was Roseanna, who had gone back to Johnse's double-wide trailer and gotten her belongings. Bud didn't mind sleeping in Tolbert's room; he and Tolbert stayed up late talking about anything and everything, just like they used to.

When Bud returned home that evening, he found Roseanna in the kitchen. The first thing he noticed was her pallor; Roseanna was pale, but she wasn't _that _pale. Her complexion rivaled a ghost's at that moment. Her hair was messy and pulled back in a messy bun, her eyes unfocused as she stared at the surface of the table.

"Rosie?"

Roseanna gasped as her eyes snapped up, meeting Bud's.

"Oh. Hey, Bud."

"You alright?"

"No," she answered honestly, licking her lips and shaking her head.

"What's wrong?" Bud's brows furrowed.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered.

"Roseanna," Bud breathed, eyes full of disbelief. He knew that their father didn't like Johnse; that he hadn't approved of Roseanna's relationship with him at all. Bud could only imagine what Ran'l's reaction was going to be when he found out Roseanna was pregnant.

"I know. I ain't told anybody but you."

"Oh my God, what are ya gonna tell Poppy?"

"Gonna tell him the truth, I reckon," Roseanna shrugged carelessly. "I tried calling Johnse. I figure he has the right t' know, ya know? He didn't answer. I didn't even bother with the voicemail. He won't call me back."

"He might. Ya never know with Jonce," Bud tried to encourage her, to give her some hope. "And if he don't, well, it's his loss. If he doesn't wanna be there for his baby, he's a dead beat."

Roseanna laughed a little at that.

"Well, he's not a dead beat if he don't even know the baby exists, Bud."

"Word gets around in this valley. You know that as well as I do. Soon as someone lets it slip that yer pregnant, Johnse's gonna find out about it."

Bud sat down in the chair across from her, his hazel eyes meeting her blue ones.

"I reckon ya've got a point," Roseanna murmured. "Guess we'll have t' wait n see, huh?"

"Yeah," Bud nodded. "But even if he don't call you back, Rose, ya've got me. Can't really do much, but I can take ya where ya need t' go."

"That's mighty kind of ya, Bud."

"No one should have t' go t' those types of appointments alone. I mean, I'll wait in the car if ya want, but I just... I dunno, I don't think it's right that ya have t' go alone."

Roseanna chuckled and grasped his hand.

"Thank you, Bud. I'm gonna have t' set somethin' like that up, but right now, I'm more worried about tellin' Mama n Poppy."

Bud burst into laughter.

"So you tell 'em just like ya told me. Straight forward."

"I can't do that!" Roseanna exclaimed. "They'd _kill me _if I just walked up n said, "I'm pregnant". I don't know what I'm gonna do, but it's not that."

"A'ight, so just... find a way t' start a conversation about it and gradually lead up to it," Bud suggested.

"Bud, I can't — you know, that's actually not a bad idea. You're a genius, Bud, and I love you for it."

"I'm not a genius," he laughed. "All I said was start a conversation an' gradually lead up t' what ya wanna tell 'em. That's not genius."

"Shut up and let me compliment you!"

He chortled and shook his head. He noticed Roseanna staring at him and quirked a brow.

"What?"

"Will you let me do your hair?" she asked suddenly, catching him off-guard.

Bud sighed heavily and nodded. It wasn't like he had anything to lose.

—

"Bud, I need to — what the heck happened to you?" Tolbert blinked as he rounded the corner to his room, finding his baby brother on the bed, typing on his laptop with his shoulder-length hair curled in ringlets.

"Not. A. Word."

"Oh nonono, there will be _several_ words unless I find out what happened t' you."

"I let Rosie do my hair, a'ight? It made her happy for a lil while," he grumbled.

"Well, she was fine when I left this mornin'. What happened?"

"That's really not my place t' say," Bud forced a tight smile. "Rose will tell ya. She went t' McCarr for somethin', I can't remember what."

"A'ight. Will this shock me?"

"Prob'ly."

"Oh dear God, we don't need anymore surprises in this fam'ly. We're still recoverin' from the last one," Tolbert remarked, flopping on his side of the bed. Bud grunted and shot him a glare.

"You referrin' t' me?"

"I wouldn't put it that way, but pretty much, yeah."

"How would ya put it, moron?"

"Ya gave us a surprise n it really wa'n't a good one. We're still tryin' t' recover from that heart attack, we don't need another one right now."

"Well, this one ain't like mine, a'ight? The only one at risk of havin' a heart attack is Poppy."

"Oh my God. Don't tell me she's pregnant." Tolbert's head turned toward Bud, his eyes wide.

"I'm not tellin' ya anything. But why would ya think that?"

"It involves Roseanna and puts Poppy at risk of a heart attack. She's _got _t' be pregnant. Unless they made up and he asked her t' marry him or somethin', but that wouldn't make her upset. Did she say ya couldn't tell me or somethin'?"

"No. In all honesty, I think she's kinda hopin' I'll tell ya so she don't have to."

"So she is pregnant?"

"Yeah," Bud nodded in confirmation. "She's pregnant with Johnse's baby. She tried callin' and he wouldn't answer. I mean, I doubt he'd be there for her anyways, but it's just the point. That's his baby, he should be the one takin' care of it."

"Jonce probably has a new girlfriend already. Girls throw themselves at him, but I can't for the life of me figure out why. It ain't like he's a keeper."

"Well, I know that n you know that, but apparently, every girl in this valley don't know that. Or maybe they jus' don't care. One of the two."

Tolbert hummed and turned his head back toward the ceiling.

"So, what're you doin'?" he queried.

"...Reading."

"Reading what?"

"I've been lookin' up all of our names t' see what they mean. Please don't laugh at me."

"What're ya doin' that for?" Tolbert propped himself up on his elbow.

"Jus' wanna know what they mean," Bud shrugged.

"A'ight," Tolbert sighed, deciding to humor him. "What's my name mean?"

"From what I can find, it means bright valley, bright, and famous. The one I've found the most is bright valley."

"Tolbert means bright valley?" Tolbert looked a little skeptical.

"Mhm. It's like English and German and... I think the other country listed was Normandy? I'm not really sure, don't quote me on that. But it's mostly German, I think, that they get the translation from."

"Oh," Tolbert murmured. "That's interesting."

"I thought it was," Bud shrugged innocently.

"How about your name?"

"Shield wolf."

"Are ya messin' with me?"

"Nope. It's derived from rand, which is the edge of a shield, and wolf. Randolph."

"Well, that's interesting. I always thought Randolph would mean somethin' like warrior, ya know?"

"Yeah. 'S kinda weird," Bud laughed softly. "My name means shield wolf. You get bright valley. That just ain't right!"

Tolbert laughed at him, gently smacking his arm.

"Oh, quit whinin'," he chortled. "Yer name means the same exact thing Poppy's does."

"'Cause it's the same name!"

"That's beside the point."

"That's literally the only point you can make with it."

"You're impossible, ya know that?"

"Yeah, well, I've been told I'm too much like you for my own good."

"Aw, that's just mean!"

Bud giggled and closed his laptop, his hazel eyes alight with amusement. He put his laptop in his backpack and moved it to the corner of the room before going back to the bed and sitting down in his spot again.

"It ain't mean if it's truthful."

Tolbert smacked the side of Bud's head, earning another laugh from him.

"Bud? Bud, honey, I'm — oh, hey, Tolbert," Roseanna gave a slight wave as she rounded the corner. "Did you tell him?"

"More like he figured it out n I confirmed it," Bud corrected.

"Oh. Well, that's completely diff'rent."

"You do know Poppy's gonna throw a fit when he finds out, right?" Tolbert directed his attention to Roseanna.

"Yeah, I know," she nodded. "He never liked Johnse from the start."

"Rose, honey, I never liked him from the start," Tolbert scoffed. "He ain't the type for you. I know you, Rose, an' I knew straight off it wouldn't work out b'tween ya. Johnse's known all through these parts for bein' a player."

"Well, I reckon he played me. I found a place t' rent. Well, it's rent t' own. I put a down payment on it, I'll be outta y'all's hair in a few days."

"Ya ain't botherin' us none, Rosie. We like your company."

"Thanks, I reckon," she murmured. "I love you both."

"We love you too, Roseanna."

She left the room, leaving Tolbert and Bud alone. Bud turned to Tolbert, taking a breath before asking, "Will you cut my hair?"

"Sure, kiddo. Whatever ya want."

—

**_February 2018_**

Bud sighed heavily as he parked his pickup truck at the far end of the parking lot, trying to brace himself for the cold air that would hit his face the instant he opened the door.

"Why can't people learn to park?" he grumbled under his breath, taking the key out of the ignition. "It woulda been so much easier if they didn't take up _two parking spaces._"

He flinched when he opened the door, shuddering as he slid out of the truck and shut the door swiftly.

"Roseanna would have to have a baby in the middle of winter," he continued on with his grumbling, hurrying toward the hospital entrance. "Couldn't've been summer, or even _spring! _No, it had to be the dead of winter."

He entered the hospital and crossed the lobby to the elevator, hitting the button and waiting patiently. If it wasn't for the fact that he'd promised Roseanna he'd visit her after school, Bud wouldn't have taken the detour to Pikeville Medical Center. But he'd promised his older sister that he would come to see her and the baby — a baby girl named Sarah Elizabeth McCoy.

Bud stepped inside the elevator and pushed the button, exhaling deeply as he leaned against the wall. He made a small noise in the back of his throat when he slid a little, grumbling to himself under his breath as the elevator took him to the third floor. From there, he had to find room 321 (again).

Bud had been the one to drive Roseanna to all of her appointments. He didn't mind it; it seemed that Johnse didn't want anything to do with his baby, so why should they worry about it? The baby would be just fine in the McCoy family.

"Hey, Rose," Bud greeted as he entered the room, closing the door behind him. "How are ya?"

"Tired. I can't sleep in this place," she huffed.

Bud hummed. He understood that.

"Believe me, I understand," Bud mumbled, taking the bundle from Roseanna's arms. "God, I've never seen a baby so _small _before."

"Well, you have. You just don't remember it," Roseanna chuckled. "Ya saw Trinnie, Addie, and Fanny after they were born."

"Fanny didn't seem this small," Bud argued, his eyes flicking up and meeting hers. "Maybe it's where I was little, I don't know, but she just didn't seem as small as Sarah 'Lizabeth."

"A'ight, maybe yer right. Maybe she is smaller than Fanny was when she was born. Not that it really matters."

Bud shrugged innocently and sat down, letting the baby grasp his finger.

"When do ya get outta here?" he inquired.

"Whenever they give me the clear. And she can pass the car seat test."

"Mmm. That where they strap 'em in the seat for like ten minutes or somethin'?"

"Yeah, that's it," Roseanna nodded. "You know, Bud, I think ya mighta been right 'bout Johnse. I haven't had one call, one text, _nothing. _I heard he was datin' Nancy, but I don't know how true it is."

"Given the source of that, I'd ask someone a little more reliable before I believed it," he quipped. "You know as well as I do that Mrs. White n them ain't a reliable source. They twist the truth the way they want it."

"You've got a point," Roseanna mumbled.

Bud huffed in amusement and looked down at his niece, his eyes scanning the infant's face.

"Y'know, I don't think it's gonna matter that Johnse is her poppy. She's still a McCoy. Poppy been by yet?"

"No. Mama said some guy named Miller placed a big order n he literally can't go anywhere 'til he gets that done."

"Yeah. Miller placed a huge order. But it's my day off, so I get t' do whatever I want. Tolbert's workin' my place t'day."

"Why ya wanna know if Poppy's been here?"

"Huh? Oh, I was jus' askin'. Ain't heard no one say anythin' 'bout it n I know that when he does get the chance t' meet his granddaughter, he's gonna fall in love wit' her. Ain't gonna be no thought on who her poppy is when he sees her."

Roseanna chuckled.

"Ya think so?"

"I know so. I don't think Poppy really cares. We get along with the Hatfields, don't we? It's jus' that he don't like Jonce," Bud pointed out. "I didn't like him after seein' him with another girl when he was s'pposed t' be dating you. But I reckon he's always been that way n he won't ever stop."

"Reckon so," Roseanna agreed with him. "Enough about Jonce n Poppy n me. How have you been lately?"

"A'ight."

"Just a'ight?" Roseanna quirked a brow.

"It's been a pretty rough week," he admitted, focusing on Sarah Elizabeth again. "Wanted t' do somethin', but I didn't. I know what's gonna happen if I do what I want t' do."

"What's gonna happen?"

"I'm gonna end up in here again and then I'm gonna get sent off t' live with Tolbert until I get "better". I'm never gonna get better. They don't seem t' understand that there's something wrong with my head. I can't control the dagon thoughts. I never asked t' be this way, y'know? I never wanted anything t' happen when I did attempt it. I didn't want t' live t' be sixteen. And in a way, Rose, I still don't want t' live."

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Don't get mad, Rose," he pleaded, his eyes flicking up and meeting hers. "_Please, _don't get mad. I don't know why. All I know is that I still don't want t' live."

"You tell Tolbert that?"

"Course I did! Tolbert knows ev'thin'."

"How 'bout Poppy?"

"No," Bud shook his head immediately. "I don't — Poppy n Mama don't know anything about it. I just... I don't feel comfortable talking to them about it. If I tell them that, they start watching me like a hawk again, they send me off t' Tolbert's, and I have t' try t' figure out how that's gonna make me better. How t' act normal enough t' go back home. I really hate the way I feel, Rosie, but there's nothin' I can do about it. I'm doin' my best with it."

"I have no doubt of that. But ya should feel comfortable talkin' t' Mama n Poppy, Bud."

"Don't ya think I know that?" he lashed out. "Don't ya think _I know _I should feel comfortable talkin' t' my parents? I feel awful for it, Roseanna! It makes me feel so dagon bad that I don't feel comfortable talking to the two people I'm s'pposed t' trust the most. I just _can't. _Ya don't understand, ya never will!"

"Do they even know ya've had a rough week, Bud?"

"They always know that. They can tell."

"I didn't mean t' make you upset."

"I know, I'm sorry. S-see, I can't _control it. _I can't control when I lash out, or just start cryin' for no reason, or when I get mad for no reason at all. But you're right. I should feel comfortable talking t' them. And I feel horrible for not feelin' that I can, Rose. The only people I talk to about it is Tolbert, Pharmer, and on very rare occasions, you. That's it. I just... don't feel comfortable talkin' about it with very many people."

"I'm sorry for makin' ya upset. I shouldn't've said anything about it."

"N-no, it's fine, say whatever ya want. I don't mean t' get mad or lash out the way I do. It just... it just _happens _and I hate it, Rose, I really do."

"I know ya do, darlin'. I don't think it's right that someone as young as you can have depression. But I guess there's no such thing as age when it comes to all types of illnesses. Even mental ones."

Bud remained silent, his breath hitching as he tried to regain his composure. He hadn't meant to lash out the way he did. Bud wasn't one that lashed out for no good reason, and it usually took a lot more than a simple remark to make him angry.

"I reckon you're right," he said after a moment. "I don't necessarily enjoy it. When people find out you have depression, they automatically assume you're made of glass or they immediately start tryin' t' figure out _why _you have depression. It's hard t' make people understand that I don't like talkin' about it without seemin' rude."

"Well, personally, I don't see where it's any of their business."

"I know. Tolbert and Pharmer said the same thing about it. I feel bad when I end up lashing out at somebody when they ask me that. I usually end up apologizin' n tryin' t' explain that I don't like talkin' 'bout it, that it's somethin' I don't talk 'bout most of the time. Maybe I shouldn't feel that way, I don't know, but I know — I know that I can trust anyone in this fam'ly. If it ever comes down to it, I can talk t' someone else. But I tell Tolbert everything, so it's fine."

Roseanna sighed and shot him a sympathetic look. She knew Bud had a hard time with it, that he struggled with it more than he let on. He really wasn't one to show how he felt. Bud would let everyone around him believe he was fine when he truly wasn't. He was the type that would try to hide a wound from everyone in an attempt to assure them that he was fine. (Roseanna hoped and prayed that he never did that, but if she knew her baby brother as well as she liked to think she did, she knew he would try it if the opportunity presented itself.)

She watched him stare down at her newborn daughter, watched a small smile spread across his face. Roseanna had no doubt that she'd be seeing more of her baby brother now that she'd had Sarah Elizabeth. She had no doubt that he was going to take his role as uncle seriously, as he seemed to love the little girl already.

"I really gotta go," Bud mumbled, standing and returning the baby to Roseanna's arms. "I'd rather get the report card thing over with. Love you."

"Love you too, Buddy."

—

Tolbert looked up as Bud entered the office, quirking a brow.

"And where have you been?"

"I promised Rose I'd stop by n see her an' Sarah Elizabeth after school."

"Then what're ya doin' out here?" Tolbert sounded genuinely confused.

"Lookin' for Poppy," he answered swiftly.

"Oh. He went out for a couple of minutes. He'll be back," Tolbert informed him as he sat down. Tolbert eyed him and noticed how nervous he was. "What're ya so nervous for?"

"He's gonna chew me out," Bud sighed, laying the paper on the desk and sliding it toward Tolbert. "I don't wanna be on the receivin' end of his anger t'day."

"If you ever want t' be on the receivin' end of Poppy's anger, I'm concerned," Tolbert remarked, his eyes scanning the paper in front of him. "And what the heck happened, Bud? I know your work was right this time 'round."

"I dunno," he shrugged half-heartedly. "I never know what's goin' on with my grades, Tol. At this point, I just kinda accept it and go on with my life."

"Well, I saw your work. The math, English, and history was right. Ali said health and science was right, too. What's goin' on, Buddy?"

"My teachers don't like me. Nobody really likes me at school. I've watched my health teacher trash my work after I turn it in, then she turns around an' claims I never turned it in. My science teacher humiliates me every chance he gets, my math teacher don't like me 'cause I can't use her crazy methods and I pointed out she did a problem wrong on the board. She's been after me ever since then. English? I dunno, he really don't say much. Neither does my history teacher. I'm failin' gym class 'cause I won't change."

"Mmm... I can understand not wantin' t' change," Tolbert muttered. "But I don't understand why you're teachers don't like ya. Yer a genius, kid."

"I'm not a genius," he disputed.

"I've watched you sit here at this desk and do the accounting for this company in _one sitting. _And it's always right when ya do it. Yer a genius."

"I'm not a genius!"

"Why can't ya let me say somethin' nice about you?" Tolbert asked softly. "Why do ya gotta fight me on it every time I try t' say somethin' nice, hm?"

"Because I'm not what ya think I am! Y-ya keep sayin' I'm a genius, but I ain't! I'm _stupid, _Tolbert! That's all there is to it! I'm a stupid moron, a'ight?!"

"You are far from stupid, Bud. Yer the smartest person I know, kiddo."

"Would ya stop lying t' me?" Bud sniffled. "I know I'm not smart. Stop lyin' t' me!"

"I'm not lyin' t' you. I promised you I would never lie t' you, and I keep my promises, Bud. You are _intelligent, _Bud McCoy. I've said it once n I'll say it again — you're the smartest person I know, kiddo."

Bud huffed irritably and slouched in his chair, folding his arms over his chest.

"I'm not—"

"You are. Ya just don't realize it. Enough on that, Buddy. How's Rose n Sarah Elizabeth?"

"Alright. The baby slept mostly n I talked t' Roseanna. Ended up talkin' to her a little more than I usually do, ya know? Like — like how I talk t' you n Pharmer."

"Oh, really?" Tolbert blinked in surprise.

"Yeah. Kinda wish I didn't, though."

"Why?"

"I ended up tellin' her what I told you."

"Oh. Why'd ya do that?"

"I did it without thinkin'," he admitted, lowering his head. "I was talkin' an' didn't think, so I just... I just said it."

Tolbert sighed and got up, rounding the desk and pulling Bud to his feet. He pulled him into a tight embrace, kissing the boy's temple.

"That's okay, Rose won't say anything. Ya know she won't."

"Yeah, that's a good thing, I reckon. I just... my God, Tol, I don't know what t' do. I don't know anythin' anymore."

Tolbert brought one hand up and scratched Bud's scalp, Bud humming and laying his head on Tolbert's shoulder. Tolbert used his free hand to rub his back, Bud closing his eyes. Bud wrapped his arms tightly around his middle, tucking his face in the crook of Tolbert's neck.

"It's alright if ya don't know what t' do, baby. There's times I don't know what t' do, if I'm honest with ya. A lot of the time, baby, I have no idea what t' do. Am I safe t' assume you'll be at my place t'night?"

"I doubt I'll be allowed t' go anywhere t'night, Tol."

—

Bud awoke to the sound of his phone ringing. He rolled onto his stomach and grabbed it off the nightstand, answering it without looking at the name.

"'Ello?"

"Hey. I'm sorry, did I wake ya?" Tolbert's voice filtered through the speaker, sounding a little panicked.

"Ya did, but it's fine. Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine," he answered swiftly.

"_Tolbert, _what's goin' on?"

"Nothin', baby. I'm sorry I woke ya up—"

"Tol, why on earth are ya callin' me at three in the mornin'?"

"Don't worry about it. I'm okay."

Bud sighed.

"Tolbert, ya don't sound that way."

"I'm okay, I promise I'm okay. I'm sorry for wakin' ya."

"It's not that big of a deal. I wake you up all the time. What's goin' on?" Bud pressed.

"I just... oh God, Bud, I think I'm havin' a panic attack, but I'm not really sure. I can't breathe right."

"I'll be there in a minute. I love you."

"I love you too."

—

Bud knew that he was _technically _breaking the rules of being grounded for three weeks. He wasn't supposed to go anywhere but school, the hospital if he wished to see Roseanna, and any place that his parents might send him on an errand. But he felt that once Ran'l heard what was going on, he would understand and would let it slide this once.

Pulling into Tolbert's driveway, he threw the gearshift into park and turned off the engine, getting out and shutting the door before hurrying toward the front door. He used his key to get in, being sure to close it before he went to Tolbert's room.

"Tolbert? Tolbert, where are ya?" He hit the light switch as he entered, finding his brother sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands tightly clenching the sheet with his chin touching his chest, trying to take in deep breaths.

"Hey," Tolbert forced out, lifting his head. "I can't — I can't calm down this time, I don't know what's wrong."

"You freakin' out ain't gonna help none. Just talk to me, Tol."

"I feel like I'm gettin' t' where I can't breathe."

"Focus on somethin' else. Talk about anything but that. It helps, trust me." Bud sat down on the bed, extending his arm toward Tolbert. "C'mere. Hugs help too."

Tolbert moved and let Bud wrap his arms around him, shifting to where he could put his head on Bud's shoulder.

"I thought you were s'pposed t' be grounded," Tolbert murmured.

"Well, I am, technically."

"An' what're you gonna do when Poppy wears you out?"

"He ain't gonna know I was here," Bud rolled his eyes. "I'll be back home b'fore he gets up."

Tolbert breathed a laugh before inhaling deeply, closing his eyes and swallowing past the lump that formed in his throat.

"I don't know what I'm doin', Bud. I don't know what threw me into it this time."

"It's okay, Tolbert. I don't mind comin' over if ya need me."

"I'm just — oh God, I dunno, Buddy. This one's bad."

"That's okay. Ya don't have t' know. I'll stay here as long as ya need me to, Tolbert."

—

Bud returned home around five a.m.

He sighed as he unlocked the front door and pushed it open, slipping inside and closing the door as quietly as he could before locking it again. He crept up the stairs and went to the right, opening the door to his room and stepping inside, wincing as he closed the door.

"And where have you been?"

Bud gasped and whirled around, hitting the switch and finding his father sitting on his bed.

"I just... I had t' go t' Tolbert's," Bud stammered. This was something he hadn't anticipated and he wasn't prepared for it. How was he supposed to explain it to his father?

"What for?" Ran'l drawled, tilting his head to the side.

"Promised I wouldn't say," Bud whispered, his throat closing up. Why was he so scared of his father?

"Ya promised ya wouldn't say?" Ran'l repeated incredulously. "That seems like a dumb thing t' do, given your situation, son."

"I — I know, but I promised I wouldn't — oh my God, Poppy, whatcha lookin' at me like that for?"

"_Two rules. _That's all I gave you, Bud. Two dagon rules and ya can't even abide by 'em!"

Bud flinched when Ran'l's belt hit his leg.

"I'm sorry!"

"All I asked was that ya only use yer phone t' call n text us and that ya didn't go anywhere but the places I gave ya. _That's it!_"

"I—I know, but y-y-ya don't understand! It was important, it was really important, Poppy! Tolbert needed me, I promise! I _swear, _Poppy, I won't go nowhere else while 'm grounded! I promise!"

"That's not the dagon point, Bud! Ya snuck out of the house in the middle of the night while you're _grounded!_"

Bud stumbled back, his back hitting the door.

"I'm sorry."

—

Bud made a noise in the back of his throat as he sat down at the desk, looking up as the door to the office opened. Tolbert stepped in and closed the door behind him.

"What happened?" Tolbert asked softly.

"Ah, he got up earlier than usual," Bud grumbled. "He was in my dang room waitin' for me. He took his belt to me, but it wa'n't too bad."

"No? Stand up."

Bud slowly stood up with a grimace, moving away from the desk and opening one of the drawers to a filing cabinet.

"No, it ain't bad at all," Tolbert drawled sarcastically. "Ya can barely _walk._"

"It's been a really long time since I got the belt," Bud said swiftly. "I'm not used to it anymore. I'm just a little sore, Tolbert. It's not that big of a deal."

He grabbed a file and made his way back to the desk, sitting down again and mumbling to himself as he sorted through the papers that were spread across the desk.

"I told you ya didn't have t' stay."

"And I told you I wasn't leavin' ya like that," Bud retaliated, his voice taking an edge to it. "Believe me, Tolbert, _I know _how bad a panic attack can get. I'm not gonna leave you when you're like that, even if I know Poppy's gonna skin my hide when I get home. I care more about you than I do about gettin' hit with a belt."

"You coulda just stayed on the phone with me."

"And it wouldn't've done any good."

"And ya really didn't tell him _why _ya went t' my place at three in the mornin'?"

"I promised you I wouldn't say anythin' 'bout it t' anybody. I keep my promises."

"I really wouldn't've cared if ya told Poppy, Bud. He wore ya out 'cause ya wouldn't tell him what ya were doin' at my place."

"I promised I wouldn't. I knew he was gonna wear me out the second I realized he was there, but I... I didn't say anythin'. I mean, I couldn't say anythin' after I'd promised you I wouldn't. I gave my word n I intend t' keep it."

"That's all well an' good, Bud, but ya don't have t' let Poppy take his belt t' you b'cause ya promise me somethin'. An' if I know you — and I do — you'd do it again without a second thought. If this ever happens again, you can tell Poppy. I don't want ya gettin' the belt 'cause ya made a promise t' me, a'ight?"

"A'ight," Bud nodded. "It wasn't that bad, though."

"You can barely walk. I don't wanna hear it, Bud."

"Okay."

—

Ran'l sighed as he entered Bud's room, closing the door behind him. Bud looked up from his book, raising a single brow curiously.

"Tolbert told me why you were at his house this mornin'. He told me why ya didn't tell me, too."

"Oh," Bud murmured, closing his book and setting it on the nightstand.

"I'm sorry. I shoulda found out what ya were doin' b'fore I took my belt to ya."

"'S fine, Poppy," Bud waved it off. "I don't mind takin' the belt if I know Tol's okay."

Ran'l let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of Bud's bed.

"_You _are too good for this world, Bud McCoy. Ya got a good heart n a good soul. Ya make me proud t' be yer poppy, 'specially when ya do things like that. Ya knew ya'd get in trouble n ya didn't care."

"W-well, I cared a little," Bud admitted. "But I wouldn't've told ya what I was doin' no matter what. I made a promise and I keep my promises. I promised I wouldn't tell no one."

"I know ya did. This is prob'ly the only time I've ever apologized for wearin' one of ya out. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Poppy," Bud laughed. "We all know I'm the best one anyways. I'm yer fav'rite."

Ran'l laughed at him.

"Yeah, Buddy. Yer my fav'rite."


	19. Baby of Mine (Modern AU)

**_January 2002_**

Ellison entered his home, closing the door behind him. He locked it before making his way upstairs, listening to the baby coo in the car seat he was carrying. And now that they were inside, out of the bitter cold, Ellison pulled the blanket down to reveal the baby's face.

He went upstairs and pushed open the door to the room he shared with his wife, who quirked a brow as he entered.

"I take it as you said yes?"

"Of course I said yes," Ellison mumbled. "He lost his parents and two oldest brothers. Don't know how; that's all they'd tell me. I've already started the adoption process, too. I stopped at Wall's place on the way home n talked to him about it. He said he'd get it started for us."

"Mighty kind of him. 'Specially after ya lost Ellison not too long ago."

Ellison set the car seat down and lowered the handle, picking the blanket up and setting it on the bed. He worked with the straps and lifted the babe into his arms, his eyes meeting Sarah's.

"Randolph McCoy, Junior."

"Oh my God," Sarah murmured, gladly taking the infant into her arms. "He's a purdy lil thing, ain't he?"

"That he is. An' as for Ellison, he died a week after he was born. Reckon he was jus' poorly."

"And ya loved that little boy more than anythin'."

Ellison gave a slight shrug, moving the seat and sitting on the bed beside his wife.

"I'm gonna change his name."

"Elli—"

"I'll tell him the truth when he's older. For now, he'll be our baby boy. Wall said we can easily get his name changed."

"Alright, Ellison."

—

**_March 2003_**

Ellison couldn't help but laugh as he chased the little one-year-old boy through the house, stepping behind him and placing his hands under his arms, lifting him off the floor.

"Gotcha!"

His son squealed with laughter, his hazel eyes shining bright as Ellison placed him on his hip.

"That wa'n't very nice, runnin' from me like that, Tyler."

Tyler giggled and leaned forward, kissing Ellison's cheek. It was the new thing he loved to do; he'd started doing it about a week ago and kissed both Ellison and Sarah every chance he got.

"Da-da."

"Yeah, Ty. I'm Daddy."

He kissed his son's cheek and turned, bending down and grabbing his toy.

"Here y' go, baby."

Tyler happily took it from him, holding it as Ellison carried him into the kitchen and put him in his high chair. He snapped the tray on it and grabbed the cereal puffs that Tyler loved, pouring some of them into a small plastic bowl and setting them in front of him.

"Yer gonna spoil him," Sarah chuckled, watching the little boy pop one in his mouth.

"Nah," Ellison denied, shaking his head.

"Oh, right. Ya already spoil him."

"I do not," he laughed, moving over to her. "I've gotta go or Anse is gonna kill me. Love you."

He swiftly kissed her cheek before grabbing his keys off the counter.

"Love you."

—

**_October 2006_**

"_Daddy!_"

Ellison jerked awake as the door to his room opened, his four-year-old son running inside and to his side of the bed.

"Daddy, I'm scared!"

"Hey, easy, baby, easy," Ellison cooed, lifting the little boy. "You're okay. It's okay. What's scared ya?"

A crack of thunder was heard, Tyler whimpering and shoving his face into Ellison's chest.

"Oh. Never mind."

Tyler clung tightly to his father, his breathing swift and labored.

"I'm scared, Daddy," he repeated, his voice trembling terribly.

"It's okay, baby. Just stay in here t'night. It's jus' a storm. A big one by the sounds of those winds, but I'm sure ev'rythin' will be fine, Tyler. Sleep in here t'night. I won't let anythin' happen to ya."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Tyler sniffled and nuzzled against Ellison, closing his eyes as his father started to rub his back and play with his brunette hair.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"William promised he'd let me come over t'morrow," Tyler murmured, blinking rapidly to stay awake.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Says I can stay wit' Will n Jonce. Mama already said I can go."

"Well, I'll be sure t' take ya over first thing in the mornin', Ty. We'll get up early, go out n get some breakfast somewheres, then we'll go t' Anse's house."

"Okay, Daddy." There was a pause. "Hey, Daddy?"

"Yes, Ty?" Ellison hummed, glancing down at his son.

"Why's ev'ryone call William Anse?"

"'Cause his name's William Anderson Hatfield. We call 'im Anse for short."

"Oh. How come he don't make me call him Anse?"

"That's somethin' you'll have t' ask him, honey. I don't know why he lets ya call him William 'stead of Anse. Last I heard, he hated that name."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That was a while ago, though. Maybe he jus' don't mind you callin' him William."

"But if he don't like the name, why would he let me call him that?"

"Maybe he changed his mind," Ellison shrugged. "Ain't no big deal either way. He lets ya call him William. He's even said he don't care for ya callin' him William if ya want to. Anse might have a nasty temper, might be nasty t' some people without his temper, but he don't mind you callin' him by his real name, kiddo."

"Y' sure?" Tyler peered up at him innocently.

"Why don't ya ask him t'morrow? He'll tell ya the truth, Tyler."

"Mkay. Love ya, Daddy."

"Love you too, son."

—

"Anse, I need t' talk t' you a minute," Ellison mumbled loud enough for his brother to hear. "It's important."

Anse led him inside to the living room, raising a brow while he waited for Ellison to speak.

"Ty's at the point that he asks a lotta questions. He's gonna talk t' you. Wants t' know why ya let him call ya William an' things like that."

"I reckon I can try t' answer his questions," Anse sighed. "Can't guarantee I'll have an answer, though."

"That's fine, he understands that. He's scared of storms, too, jus' in case we actually do get the storm they're sayin' we're gonna get t'night."

"A'ight," Anse chuckled.

—

Anse lifted Tyler and placed him on his hip, carrying him upstairs to the room that was directly across from his and Levicy's.

"If ya need us t'night, we're in the room right across the hall, alright?"

"A'ight. Hey, William?"

"Yeah, Tyler?"

"Why's ya let me call ya William? Ev'ryone else calls ya Anse."

Anse set him down and exhaled deeply through his nostrils.

"'Cause yer not like ev'ryone else," he answered after a moment. "There's somethin' special about you."

Tyler's face pinched in a bewildered expression.

"But Daddy said ya didn't like the name William."

"It's diff'rent when it's you callin' me William." Anse gently tapped his nose, earning a giggle. "I don't mind it when it's you, Tyler."

"Y' sure? I can call ya Anse."

"I'm sure, honey. You keep on callin' me William. Now, how about you get some sleep, hm?"

"Mkay. Night, William."

"Night, Tyler."

—

Tyler ended up sleeping with Anse and Levicy. The two hadn't minded it (they'd actually expected it when the wind started to pick up) and had made the little boy laugh so hard that his sides hurt.

Now, curled up against Anse, he slept soundly. Anse didn't mind; if there was one thing he'd learned over the past five years, it was that Ellison's boy was special. Anse had never seen his younger brother as happy as he had been the day he pulled in his driveway with a baby in the backseat. He'd given them the story, had told them the baby's real name, and had revealed his plan to adopt him and change his name.

It was almost as though the two had a bond that was unbreakable. Anse knew it sounded ridiculous, but Ellison had fallen in love with Tyler the second he laid eyes on him. All it had taken for him to agree to take him home with him was to hold him in his arms.

"It's almost like havin' Elli back, Anse," Ellison had told him.

Anse knew that was another reason for it — Ellison was grieving the loss of his own son and wanted a baby. So when he received a call saying that a three-month-old baby had just been orphaned and was in need of a home, he hadn't hesitated to go into Pike County, Kentucky to see the baby.

Ellison's son had been born sickly. He'd named him Ellison Mounts, and the baby had lived for a week before succumbing to whatever illness he had. It had broken Ellison.

"Daddy?"

Anse looked over at the door, seeing Will and Johnse.

"What're you boys doin' up?"

"Hadn't seen Ty. Didn't know if he went home or not," Will shrugged innocently.

"Well, he didn't. He's sleepin', jus' like you should be. Git yer hides in your rooms before your mother sees you."

The boys left, leaving Anse alone with his thoughts again. That was when Levicy entered the room again, carrying two bottles of water. She closed the door and shuffled to the bed, getting in and covering up after passing one of the bottles to Anse.

"Ya just missed our boys," Anse murmured, watching her sigh. "Surprisingly, they didn't want anything. All they wanted was t' know if Tyler had gone home or not."

"Mm. Long as they went back t' bed, I don't really care," Levicy mumbled, laying down. "I'm too tired t' care."

Anse laughed at that.

"Get some sleep, Levicy."

—

Anse jerked awake to Tyler screaming. The little boy had tensed and hurriedly scrambled to where he had one leg on either side of Anse, burying his face in his uncle's chest.

"Ty? You okay?" Anse rasped, placing his hand on the boy's back.

"'M scared," he muffled into Anse's chest, his hand clenching the fabric of his t-shirt.

"What're ya scared of?"

"I wanna go home!" Tyler cried. "I wanna go home, William!"

"Alright, honey, I'll take ya home. Go get your stuff n I'll call your daddy t' let him know we're comin'." He got up, holding Tyler against him before setting him on the floor, watching the boy scurry out of the room.

Anse grabbed the phone and dialed Ellison's number, mumbling to himself under his breath.

"Anse?" Ellison's voice filtered through the speaker, but it sounded like he was barely awake.

"Yeah, Ellison. Your son wants t' come home. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Wha's wrong wit' him?" Ellison yawned.

"Musta had a bad dream. Woke me up screamin'."

"Mm. I'll talk to him when he gets here."

"A'ight. An' Ellison?"

"Yeah, Anse?"

"Don't go back t' sleep."

"Oh, you think yer so funny," Ellison grumbled. "Why don't you shut up an' bring my kid home?"

"If that's what ya want," Anse shrugged, amused at his younger brother's bad mood. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Mkay."

—

"Hey, baby," Ellison smiled as Tyler entered the house, bending down and picking him up. Tyler threw his arms around him, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Ellison kissed his temple before taking the bag from Anse, thanking him.

Anse nodded and left. Ellison closed the door and locked it, planting another kiss on his son's temple.

"Why'd ya wanna come home, baby?" Ellison asked, climbing the stairs and pushing the door open to Tyler's room.

"I was scared," he muffled, holding tightly to his father. "I jus' — I didn't wanna stay no more."

"That's okay, baby. I don't mind ya comin' home. I like havin' ya home if I'm honest with ya. I'm sure yer safe when yer home. Want me t' stay in here t'night?"

"Please," Tyler whispered. "I don't wanna be alone, Daddy."

"That's okay. Ya still scared?"

"Mhm."

"What scared ya?"

"M' dream. Y-you died in it."

"Oh, baby," Ellison murmured, giving him a gentle squeeze (or a bear hug, as Tyler called them). "Wanna sleep in one of my shirts? I'll go get one for ya."

"Please."

"Alright. You stay here. I'll tell yer Mama what's goin' on while I getcha a shirt."

"Okay, Daddy."

Ellison set him down on the bed and left the room, returning a moment later with a blue t-shirt. He helped his son change into it, kissing his cheek and tossing the clothes he'd been wearing in the hamper.

"Now get some sleep, Ty. I love you."

"Love y' too."

—

**_October 2014_**

Ellison glanced at Sarah, who gave him a small, encouraging nod. He didn't want to give the box to Tyler; he didn't want to tell him the truth. But Tyler was thirteen and he deserved to know.

He pulled the box off of the shelf in the closet, the one with _TYLER _written across it in permanent marker.

"He downstairs?" Ellison asked softly.

"That's where he's s'pposed t' be," Sarah answered. "Don't look so down, Ellison. You promised you'd tell him on his thirteenth birthday."

"He's gonna get mad, Sarah," Ellison sighed, leaving the room.

Ellison descended the stairs and walked down the hall to the kitchen, finding Tyler sitting at the table. He swallowed thickly and set the box down, trying to figure out a way to explain to the boy that he was adopted without making it seem terrible.

Tyler looked up at him strangely, as he was sitting there eating a bowl of cereal, his brows furrowed and his hazel eyes shining with confusion.

"What's that?" He pointed to the box, standing to put the bowl in the sink.

"Uh... it's full of stuff that b'longs t' you. Like... like your original birth certificate, your social security card, a book of baby's first that goes up t' three months and another that me an' your Mama did from three months on. Things that your birth parents and biological siblings left you."

Tyler whipped around, the bowl slipping out of his hand and shattering against the floor.

"I'm sorry?" he blinked, not fully processing that he'd dropped it yet.

"It's a box full of things that b'long t' you. We've saved everything in here the last thirteen years; we've added somethin' to it each year. Things that we find or are given to us. We thought it'd be best t' give it to you when ya turned thirteen."

"Are you sayin' I'm adopted?"

"Yeah, kiddo. You're adopted."

"Oh my God."

Tyler glanced down, finding the shattered bowl.

"S-sorry, Daddy, I'll clean that up."

"Don't worry about that. Step over it and come here."

Tyler did as he was told, unwanted tears welling in his eyes.

"So... so did they just not want me or what?"

"It's not that they didn't want you, baby. They loved ya very much. They couldn't help what happened, Tyler. Go on, open it."

He sniffled as he opened the box, swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat. The first thing he found was his birth certificate.

"Randolph McCoy, Junior?" Tyler looked up at Ellison. "You changed my name?"

"I did."

"Why?!"

"To avoid the questions as long as I could," Ellison answered honestly. "And since I adopted you, I would've had t' change your last name anyway—"

"To avoid _questions?! _I have so many dagon questions right now, Daddy!"

"I know."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Tyler demanded, tears spilling onto his face. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"'Cause I was scared to. I wanted ya t' be old enough t' understand all of it when I told ya."

"Ya lied t' me. All of ya did! Ya've lied to me my entire life!"

"I didn't lie t' you," Ellison sighed. "I just didn't know how t' tell you."

"You coulda told me the dang truth!" Tyler countered, his voice going shrill. "What else haven't you told me? What else are ya keepin' from me? _Tell me!_"

Ellison sat down, trying to suppress the dread and guilt he felt.

"Sit down. We'll talk, okay? I'll explain everything."

Tyler huffed and sat down, slouching in the chair and looking at him expectantly.

"You... God, honey, this is so hard t' put int' words. 2001. 2001 was a gosh-awful year for me. I had a son born in August — we named him Ellison Mounts. I wasn't married to your mother at the time and his mother was a woman named Harriet. He died when he was a week old. He was born sickly and... he just couldn't fight whatever it was.

"So I put in t' be a foster parent. Logan and Mingo Counties in West Virginia, and in Pike County, Kentucky. January 30, 2002, I got a phone call. They said they had a three-month-old baby boy there that had just been orphaned. So I drove int' Pikeville t' see the baby, t' see if I thought he'd be right for me n yer Mama.

"He was perfect. The minute I laid eyes on him, I knew I was s'pposed t' take him home with me. So I did. And I got the adoption process started immediately. There was just somethin' about that baby, this feelin' that he was s'pposed t' be part of my family. It was like God made him just for me. So I adopted him and I changed his name from Randolph McCoy, Junior to Tyler Jackson Hatfield.

"They called ya Bud in your birth fam'ly. Your parents and two oldest brothers died in a terrible car accident. Your brothers were fourteen and ten when they died. Their names were James — well, they called him Jim — and Tolbert. From what I've been able t' find out, Tolbert loved you more than anyone else in this world. He played his role well and did anythin' he was asked to when it came t' takin' care of ya.

"You have four other siblings. Alifair, Roseanna, Calvin, and Pharmer. They're all alive and doin' well. And I've checked with them... if you want t' meet them, they'd be more than happy t' meet you, baby. All ya have t' do is say ya want to, and we'll figure out a time and place so you can meet them."

Tyler was strangely silent, staring down at the floor with a blank expression. It was a lot to take in all at once. He'd wanted the truth and he'd gotten it, but he wasn't entirely sure how he felt. One part of him was swirling with anger at his adoptive father for keeping it from him for so long while the other was overwhelmed by everything he'd learned in the last few moments. He'd never felt so torn between two different emotions and he didn't know which one was dominant.

He knew, logically, that his father had done it with his best interests at heart. He'd let Tyler grow up with a normal childhood and a normal family. No one even knew he was adopted, apparently. He was sure he would've heard some stupid jokes about it if anyone knew.

But right now, he was illogical and running off of his emotions. His father had _no right _to keep it from him as long as he had. Why shouldn't he know the truth about his life from the start?

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tyler whispered. He didn't know why he felt so heartbroken at the realization that he wasn't really Ellison's son; he should've known. He looked nothing like Ellison and Sarah.

"Mostly 'cause I was scared to. But... but I'd promised yer Mama I'd give this to ya on your thirteenth birthday, so I kept my promise, as much as I didn't want to. Ya have the right t' know, Ty. That box is filled t' the brim with things that belong t' you. And I know you're mad, that you're upset. Ya have every right t' be. But I never intended t' lie t' ya, Tyler. Reckon I just... really wanted t' believe you were mine. You're still legally my son, but now that ya know I ain't really your daddy, I reckon you get t' make the choice of what ya wanna call me."

"Whaddaya mean?" Tyler's brows pinched together as he sat up straight.

"You don't have t' call me Daddy anymore if ya don't want to. It's whatever you want, honey."

Tyler saw the tear that slipped down Ellison's face; could see the guilt that shone in his eyes. It didn't stop his anger, but it suppressed it a little.

"Daddy, don't cry."

"I'm not cryin'."

Tyler's throat closed up, gazing at Ellison. He was so overwhelmed that he didn't even know what he wanted to do or say.

"Daddy, I... I don't understand."

"You don't understand what?"

"Why wouldn't I wanna call you Daddy? You're my father. T' me, that's what your name is. I mean, I know it's not actually your name, that would be weird, but I've never called you anythin' but Daddy."

"I only said if you wanted to. Sometimes, after someone finds out they've been adopted, they don't wanna call 'em Mama n Daddy anymore. They'll call 'em by their names or maybe they won't speak to 'em at all. I just wanted t' make sure that you know it's okay t' do that if that's what ya wanna do."

"I don't even know how I feel, Daddy," he confessed, shaking his head lightly. "I just — I'm so overwhelmed and I can't figure out how I feel. Can you... can you help me understand all this?"

"I can try."

Tyler nodded and got up, rounding the table and sitting down beside Ellison. He grabbed the box and pulled it forward, standing so he could see inside of it and pulling out what looked to be a photo album.

"What's this?"

"Pictures that your brother Jim took. That's one of the albums he filled up with pictures of the McCoy family."

Tyler sat down again, his eyes flicking over and meeting Ellison's.

"Did you know them?"

"I knew your parents. I didn't know your brothers very well; I didn't see them much."

"Oh. What were they like?"

"They were good people. Some of the best I knew. They loved each and every one of their many babies, and they did their darndest t' raise 'em up right. And they did a fine job with it. Your father was plannin' t' start himself a timbering company. Something that he could do right from his backyard 'cause he didn't want t' leave his family after comin' back from the army. Your mother was one of the sweetest women I've ever met. Always kind t' everyone she met. I knew yer father a little better than yer mother, mostly 'cause he was friends with Anse. They were good people, Ty. I can see them in you."

"You can?" Tyler scrunched his nose.

"Yeah. Just little things ya do that reminds me of them. Or little things ya do that remind me of your brothers. Like you scrunchin' your nose up — Tolbert used to do that a lot."

"Really?"

"Mhm. He 'specially did it after Sally kissed him 'cause, in his words, he was "too old t' be kissed like a baby." I thought it was funny."

Tyler giggled and opened the photo album, his eyes landing on a photo of a boy who looked to be about eight. He'd scrunched his nose and stuck his tongue out at whoever took the photo, his wild ginger curls splayed across his forehead. Tyler's eyes drifted down to the slip of paper beneath the photo with the words _He don't know how to take a serious picture, September 1999 _written on it.

"That would be Tolbert."

"I lived longer than he did?" Tyler asked softly, eyes flicking between the photo and Ellison.

"Ya did," Ellison nodded. "Tolbert was ten when he died. That was taken two years before it. And from what I've noticed by lookin' in the other ones you were given, that was a tradition with them. Once a month, Tolbert would pull a funny face for one of the pictures and Jim would keep it."

He turned the page, finding the same boy with a boy that was a little older than he was.

_Me and Bert, September 1999_

"Bert?"

"Reckon that's what Jim called him," Ellison shrugged.

"Hm... Can we go t' the livin' room?"

"Sure. Whatever ya want, Ty."

—

"Daddy, can you call me Bud?" Tyler asked as he closed the box, his hazel eyes flicking up and meeting his father's.

"I reckon so," Ellison nodded slightly. "How ya feel 'bout meetin' your brothers and sisters?"

"I wanna meet 'em," he said swiftly. "I really wanna meet 'em, Daddy."

"Alright. We'll set somethin' up. I'll let ya know, okay?"

"Okay."

"Go get dressed, Buddy. We're goin' out t'night."

—

Tyler didn't know why his parents had decided to take him into Kentucky; they usually went to Logan when they went out, but for whatever reason, they'd planned something in Kentucky.

They'd gone in a restaurant — an all you can eat buffet — and had been led to the back room.

"Isn't the back rooms for people who reserve them?" Tyler queried, walking alongside his father.

"Mhm."

"Wait, then that means—"

"Quit tryin' t' figure somethin' out," Ellison chided lightly, laughing. "C'mon."

They entered the room, finding four other people in the room. Tyler stopped and took a step back, looking uncertainly at Ellison. They hadn't noticed that they'd entered the room, and they were talking with each other and laughing.

"Relax, Bud. It's alright."

That caught the girl with dark brown hair's attention. She looked over at them, blinking before sliding out of the booth and approaching.

"Bud?" she asked softly, eyes flicking between Ellison and Tyler. Ellison nodded. "Oh my God. I'm Alifair."

_His sister?_

"You... remember me?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, Buddy," she nodded with a laugh. "I remember ya."

Tyler didn't know what came over him, but he lunged forward and hugged her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder. It took him a moment to realize what he'd done, and he gasped and took a few steps back.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry! I don't — I don't know what came over me."

"Hey, it's alright. I don't mind it. Come here."

He hugged her again, relishing in the comfort he felt. Tyler had never been the type to instantly trust someone, but there was something about Alifair that made him trust her immediately.

"That him?" one of the boys spoke up.

"Yeah," Alifair answered, turning her head toward them. She turned back to Tyler. "Wanna meet the rest of 'em? They're a little crazy, but I think you'll like 'em."

He laughed and nodded, letting her pull him over to the booth.

—

Bud found that all of his siblings were wonderful people. And while he did immediately trust all of them (it was just a feeling that he should and he did), he felt a different connection with Pharmer than he did the other three.

And after they left, he'd leaned his head against the window of the truck, and had ended up falling asleep.

He didn't wake until his father had pulled him out of the truck and into his arms, which caused him to blink a few times.

"Go back t' sleep, baby."

"Don' wanna," he mumbled, nuzzling his father's shoulder.

"Okay. That's fine, but I don't trust you enough t' let ya walk. Ya look like yer still half-asleep."

"I think I am."

Ellison couldn't help it; he laughed at him. Tyler huffed and pouted, throwing his left arm over Ellison's shoulder. His right arm was wrapped around his neck, his hand subconsciously holding onto the fabric of Ellison's shirt.

Tyler fought to stay awake as his father carried him inside and up the stairs, making a noise in the back of his throat as he was placed on the bed.

"Get some sleep, baby. I love you."

"I love y' too."

—

**_November 2014_**

"_Pharmer!_" Bud exclaimed, running up to him and throwing his arms around him. "Oh my God, Pharmer!"

"Hey, Buddy," Pharmer laughed. "Ellison said ya might want some help, so I brought over what I have. I know you're tryin' t' find out all ya can on Mama, Poppy, Tolbert, n Jim. I have a photo that I think you should have, too. It just happened to be in one of the albums that was given to me."

"A photo?" Bud's brows furrowed. "Why would you wanna give it to me?"

"You'll see when I find it. So... so you've always been called Bud to me, and I was told that you're Poppy's namesake. Is your name still Randolph?"

"No, it's Tyler," Bud chuckled. "I'm Tyler Jackson Hatfield. Have been for most of my life. I didn't even know I had brothers and sisters until two weeks ago. I've — I've calmed down a lot since then. And I've apologized t' Daddy a lot too. I didn't handle it very well."

"I think he expected that," Pharmer remarked.

"Yeah, well, that don't make it any better. He was jus' tryin' t' help, ya know? I know he dreaded it. I could tell the minute he walked in the kitchen that he dreaded it. It really ain't hard t' tell with Daddy; Daddy's always happy and he just... he wasn't that day. Not until I managed t' control my temper and we went through everything in that box, anyways."

Pharmer hummed, closing the door to Alifair's car and following Bud inside. They went up to his room, where Bud told Pharmer he could put his things down wherever he wanted to.

"So, are you hot-headed?" Pharmer asked as he set the box down beside the desk.

"Not usually," Bud answered sheepishly. "I just... I don't know, I know it sounds stupid, but I felt betrayed. Like he had a million opportunities to tell me that I was adopted and he never bothered t' tell me. He never even hinted at it. I mean, he never really came straight out and lied to me either, but he was really good at avoiding certain questions.

"Like the time I asked him why my hair and eyes are diff'rent from his and Mama's. Mama's got real dark hair with grey eyes and Daddy's got red hair and brown eyes. I don't look like them at all. From what I've been told, I was basically a replacement for the one Daddy lost."

"I doubt he sees you as a replacement. But ya might've helped him deal with the loss."

"I didn't even know Daddy had a kid named Ellison. He died when he was a week old. And I replaced him in January."

"You weren't a replacement. Ellison wanted you."

"To replace the baby he lost," Bud countered, keeping his voice low. "He got me to replace the son that he lost in August. But it's okay. I just... I won't tell him I've figured that out. Please don't tell him."

"I won't, Bud."

"Promise?"

"Yeah," Pharmer nodded slightly. "I promise."

—

Bud awoke unable to breathe. He whined and sat up, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He hated it when this happened. He hated it when he had the panic attacks that nobody knew about.

"Bud? Bud, are you awa—oh my God, are ya okay?" Pharmer asked as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"I-I'm fine," Bud forced out. "You can go back t' bed."

"No. You ain't breathin' right."

"I can handle it, go on."

"For some reason, I don't believe that. Here, let me help."

"I'm fine, Pharmer, I promise. This happens a lot. I swear, I'm fine."

"Let me help you," Pharmer sighed tiredly. He knew how panic attacks were and he knew Bud wouldn't be able to calm himself down. He hadn't gone into a full-blown panic yet, as he was still able to talk to Pharmer, so Pharmer counted that as a plus.

"Okay," he agreed softly. "But y' can't tell no one! Not — not Daddy, not Mama, nobody."

"Bud, why don't they—"

"They'd just replace me!" Bud struggled to draw in a breath.

"Hey, nonono, gimme your hand."

Pharmer took Bud's hand and placed it on his chest.

"Do what I do, okay?"

Bud nodded mutely. It was getting bad, it was getting very, very bad. He'd never been to the point that he struggled to breathe.

Pharmer took a deep breath, waiting for Bud to do the same. He released it, again waiting for Bud to release the breath he drew in. He repeated the motions for a moment, helping Bud calm down and catch his breath.

"I can't tell 'em," he breathed, placing his head on Pharmer's shoulder. "I jus' can't. They'll replace me 'cause I'm jus' a replacement an' I ain't really theirs, and—"

"Woah, woah, calm down. Calm down, easy. I watched them this evenin'. You're not just a replacement t' them."

"I'm a replacement, Pharmer! I've known that since August."

"August? But I thought—"

"William told me 'bout it when Daddy forced me t' go t' his place for a while. I asked him why Daddy didn't want me goin' wherever he was goin' and he told me 'bout Elli. That's what they called him. They called him Elli. I never told Daddy... I don't want him gettin' mad at William for tellin' me 'bout it. But... but William didn't tell me I was adopted. He made it out like I was really their kid."

"Bud, I don't care _what _you think, ya really need t' tell them. What if it gets t' where you can't calm down? I don't want you dyin' 'cause you're too dang stubborn t' tell Ellison about it."

"It's not gonna—"

"Ya don't know that," Pharmer cut him off. "How do ya know it won't get that bad?"

"I don't care! I'm not tellin' him."

Pharmer sighed. He knew that Bud would likely get mad at him, but he didn't care. Ellison needed to know in case it ever got worse than what it already was.

"Alright, Buddy. Go back t' sleep. 'M gonna go t' my room, okay?"

"Okay."

—

Bud was half-asleep when the door to his room opened again. He blinked owlishly, finding his father there with a concerned expression as he made his way over to him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Hey, Ty," he murmured, scratching Bud's scalp. "Wanna tell me why ya never told me you're having panic attacks?"

Bud's heart skipped a beat.

"I can handle 'em," he mumbled.

"From what I was told, they're gettin' bad."

"It's not — it's not bad, Daddy. If it was bad, you woulda already known about it."

"_Tyler, _I should've known about it anyway. I don't care if you can calm yourself down or not."

"Why?" Bud's voice took a defensive edge to it. "So you can replace me too?"

"What are you talkin' about?" Ellison sighed tiredly.

"You got me t' replace the son that ya lost. That's why you got me. It's — it's not that you wanted_ me._ It's that you wanted someone t' replace the baby that you lost."

Ellison gaped at him, eyes wide and jaw slack while he stared, trying to form words. Where would Bud get such a ludicrous idea?

"Where on earth did ya get an idea like that?" Ellison demanded after a moment.

"It didn't take much t' figure it out!"

"Tyler, if I didn't want you—"

"Don't give me that," he groaned exasperatedly, turning onto his back and throwing an arm over his head. "Do _not _give me that bull."

"You're not a replacement," Ellison stated, his voice trembling.

"It's a'ight, Daddy. Ya ain't gotta lie. I've known that since August."

"August?"

"When ya forced me t' go t' William's. I asked him why ya wouldn't tell me where ya was goin' and he was honest. But he made it out like I'm really yours and... and I thought I was. But he told me what happened. He told me about Elli and that he died when he was a week old, and that after I was born, you just... you became happy again. I replaced the son you lost."

"You didn't replace anybody. And Anse had no right—"

"He tried t' lie t' me. I wouldn't let him. He got by with one lie, though."

Ellison's throat constricted as he tried to regain control over his emotions. His emotions always went haywire when someone so much as mentioned Elli to him. He couldn't help it; he'd tried to stop it for thirteen years.

"He shoulda jus' told you t' ask me."

"So you could lie to me?"

"I have never lied t' you."

Bud scoffed.

"Uh-huh. And my name is really Tyler Jackson Hatfield, and I really am the son of Ellison and Sarah Ann Hatfield, and I'm an only child. Good Lord, ya've lied to me my whole life. Ya got me as a replacement. That's all I am."

"Ya ain't no—"

"I replaced your real son. That's what I did."

"Alright," Ellison nodded slightly. "If you replaced my real son, I replaced your real father. Do you hear how stupid that sounds, Tyler?"

"Daddy, I didn't mean—"

"Forget it."

Ellison got up and started to leave the room.

"Daddy! Daddy, wait, Daddy, I didn't mean—_Daddy!_"

Bud flinched when he slammed the door behind him, tears spilling onto his face. Maybe he should've found a better way to tell his father how he felt.

—

"Ellison, ya've got ta calm—"

"I don't wanna calm down!" Ellison all but shouted. "He said I lied t' him his whole life, Sarah. He said he's nothin' but a dagon replacement for Elli, who he's known about since _August _and he never bothered t' tell me that Anse told him about him! This is why I didn't want t' tell him. I didn't want t' tell him anything! Not about Elli and _definitely _not about his parents!"

"But he deserves t' know, Ellison."

"What does it matter?! They didn't raise him! They weren't the ones that bent over backwards for him, we were! We're his parents, Sarah!"

"We adopted him, Ellison, that's all we did. We gave him a good home. You have got t' calm down."

"We raised him, Sarah! We didn't just adopt him, we raised him!"

"Ellison—"

"What in the world is goin' on?" Anse questioned as he entered the room.

"_You. _Why the heck didn't you tell me that you told my son about Elli?" Ellison shoved his older brother roughly, causing him to stumble into the hallway.

"I thought he'd tell ya. Did he not tell you?"

"No, he didn't tell me! It's because of you and your big mouth that he thinks he's a dagon replacement!"

"Ellison, stop it," Wall barked, grabbing his younger brother and holding him back. "I don't know what's got ya so worked up, but ya need t' calm down a little."

Ellison huffed and broke loose, going back in his room.

Anse and Wall glanced at each other, each of them jumping when they heard glass shatter against the wall.

"Ellison," Sarah breathed. "Ellison, Ty bought that for you—"

"Sarah," he growled, "shut up."

"Jim, 'Lias, you try t' find out what happened from him. I'm gonna talk t' Tyler."

Wall slipped by them and entered his nephew's room, finding him staring at the door blankly.

"Hey, Ty. What happened?"

"I made Daddy mad. He don't want me no more!" Bud sobbed, covering his face with his hands. "I didn't mean t' make him mad, Wall, honest I didn't!"

"Hey, what happened, honey? I need more than ya made him mad."

"My stupid brother told Daddy I've been havin' panic attacks. They — they ain't bad, I can calm m'self down, but apparently, he felt that Daddy needed t' know, so he went n told him. Daddy came in here n asked 'bout it, so I was honest. I didn't tell him 'cause they're not bad. Daddy said that it didn't matter, that he should've known anyways, and I asked why. I asked if it was so he could replace me too.

"It went back n forth like that for a while. I told him that he didn't want _me. _He just wanted someone t' replace his son. It got t' where I told him that I was a replacement for his real son; that's all I am. And he said if I'm a replacement for his real son, he's a replacement for my real father. He asked if I heard how stupid it sounded.

"I feel so stupid for feelin' the way I do, Wall! I don't — I don't like feelin' this way, Wall, I really don't! I don't like feelin' like I'm nothin' but a dagon replacement for a child he didn't get t' raise, and I don't like feelin' like my entire life's been a lie. I feel — I feel betrayed and I know it's stupid, I know it is, but I jus' can't stop it, Wall."

Wall pulled him up to a sitting position and wrapped his arms around him tightly, letting the boy cry into his shoulder.

"Don't feel stupid. You feel the way ya feel, Tyler. Ya have every right t' be mad at him. Ya have every right t' feel betrayed. It's alright, Ty, it's okay."

"I—I shoulda found a better way t' tell him how I feel," Bud sniffled. "Daddy don't want me no more, Wall."

"Your daddy wants you. He loves you very much."

"No, he d-on't!" he insisted. "I tried t' get him t' come back after he got mad n started t' leave. He ignored me n slammed the door. I didn't mean t' make him mad."

"I know ya didn't. I know ya didn't mean for it t' go that way. You're thirteen, Ty. No one expects ya t' be perfect all the time. You get mad and hurt just like ev'ryone else. You may not be able t' control your emotions like the rest of us, though. Ya ain't as old as we are."

"I'm real scared, Wall. I don't wanna be replaced!"

"They're not gonna replace you. They can't replace you. I know ya've got it in yer head that yer a replacement for Elli, but yer not. Yer daddy wanted a baby. That's why he got you. You were perfect for him an' your mama. They wanted you an' they both love ya very much, honey. They ain't ever gonna get rid of ya."

"Y' sure? He was awful mad."

"Yer father won't tell ya this, Ty, but even someone mentionin' Elli's name makes him upset. So I reckon when he was in here, he got upset and that only made it worse when he did end up losin' his temper. Why don't ya try talkin' to him, hm?"

Bud slowly shook his head. He couldn't do that; Ellison was as mad as could be at him and he'd rather not risk making it worse.

"I can't do that," he muttered as he sat up, wiping his burning eyes. "I'll jus' make it worse."

"Ya will not. Talk to him. He'll listen, Tyler."

"I did it all wrong last time. He prob'ly don't wanna talk t' me right now." Bud hung his head and averted his gaze, picking at his nails.

"Ya won't know 'til ya try," Wall pointed out.

"A'ight," he agreed softly. "I'll — I'll try t—"

"_I don't care! _What gave you the impression that I care?!" Ellison's voice was heard.

Bud blanched. He sounded furious. Bud slowly got up and padded over to the door, gulping before he took a deep breath. What was he doing? He was going to make it worse, he knew he was. But he'd said that he would try. So Bud opened the door and stepped into the hall.

—

"Daddy?" Bud asked timidly, not daring to go any farther than the doorway.

"_What, _Tyler?" He whipped around to where he faced him, seeing the way he flinched.

"I'm — I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I won't bother ya none, Daddy, sorry," he rushed, averting his gaze.

"Tyler?" His voice softened. "Tyler, honey, c'mere."

"N-no, 's a'ight. I'll... I'll jus' go back t' my room, I'm sorry."

"_Tyler Jackson Hatfield, _git yer hide over here."

Bud shouldn't've been as scared as he was. He didn't know why he was so scared of his father; Ellison had never given him a reason to be scared of him.

Yet for some unknown reason, his heart was thundering in his chest and his palms were sweaty. Bud was trying his hardest to calm himself as he stepped inside the room, noticing the broken glass on his left.

"Anse, Jim, 'Lias, Sarah... I need t' talk t' him."

Bud tried not to flinch when the door clicked shut a few seconds later, but he failed.

"Sit down."

His eyes flicked up and met Ellison's, who was sitting on the side of the bed. Bud sat down beside him, keeping his eyes focused on his lap while he picked at his nails.

"I'm sorry," Bud blurted. "I didn't mean it. I just... I didn't mean it the way it sounded, I mean. I couldn't figure out any other way t' tell ya how I feel and I was frustrated and—and I'm real sorry, Daddy."

"Why're you apologizin'? Ya didn't do anythin' wrong."

Bud looked up at his father with wide eyes, blinking. Surely he hadn't heard him right. He'd been so angry not even a moment ago and now he sounded calm. There was _no way _Bud had heard him right.

"I shouldn't've lost my temper with ya. I should've known that that overactive brain of yers would come up with somethin' crazy an' that you'd believe it. An' I shoulda been more honest with ya up 'til now. Ya had and still have ev'ry right t' be mad at me over the things I kept from ya. It was never done with the intention t' hurt you, though. I don't talk about Elli with anybody if I'm honest with ya. Not even yer Mama. It hurts a little too much still."

Bud bit on his lip, staring at his father.

"Was he... was he like me? Is that why you wanted me?"

"You an' Elli really wa'n't alike at all. Elli was blonde with blue eyes. Yer a brunette with hazel eyes. You was a lot less fussy than Elli was too. But Elli was sickly, so I reckon that was expected when we brought him home. We knew from the start he wasn't gonna live long, so we had the choice of bringin' him home or makin' him stay in the hospital. I brought him home two days after he was born."

"Was he... here?" Bud asked hesitantly.

"He was here for five days. Slept in here with me n yer Mama, just like you used to. Had a crib in the corner over there that we put ya in. I was the one that found Elli. Yer Mama said she'd put him down for a nap about an hour 'fore I came home from work that day, and she asked me t' check on him since I was headin' up here anyways. So I agreed to it.

"Came in here and took off my boots, left 'em by the dresser in the same place they are now. I thought it was strange that Elli hadn't woke from a nap he'd been takin' for an hour. He never slept longer than twenty minutes, day or night. So I... I picked him up, and he was cold, Ty. His skin was ice cold. And then I noticed he wasn't breathin'. I tried my hardest t' revive him; did CPR and all that. It was too late.

"Anse thought I was absolutely crazy when I told him I'd already put in t' be a foster parent at the funeral. The funeral was a private service that happened three days after Elli died. We buried him in the fam'ly cemetery. Sometimes... sometimes, I catch myself imaginin' what my life woulda been like with the both of ya t'gether. I imagine that the two of ya woulda got along jus' fine and that ya woulda loved each other. I imagine what he mighta looked like when he got older. Then I usually cry for a while."

"Uncle Wall says ya don't really like talkin' 'bout Elli. Says it upsets ya when someone even mentions him. I'm sorry for makin' ya upset, Daddy. I didn't know it upset ya or I never woulda said anythin'."

"I want you t' talk t' me, Tyler," Ellison sighed. "I don't care if it's somethin' you want t' know 'bout Elli or your birth family, if ya wanna know it, ask me. If you think it's somethin' that ain't important but ya still wanna tell me, jus' tell me. And when ya have another panic attack, please come to me. I love you, son. I ain't gonna lose you over somethin' as silly as a lil argument."

"I don't understand, Daddy. You... you want me? After what I said, ya still want me?"

"Course I do, honey. Yer still my son, ain't ya? I don't see why I wouldn't want ya. You're a good son. I can't imagine havin' anyone but you as my son, even if ya ain't really mine."

"Reckon I shoulda been a little more honest?" he rasped, his throat closing up as he fought to suppress his tears.

"Woulda been nice. I would've liked to have known that you felt like you were a replacement. And I would've liked to have known that you felt like I'd lied to ya yer whole life."

"I feel stupid for feelin' the way I do," Bud confessed. "I shouldn't feel like I replaced the child you didn't get to raise, and I shouldn't feel like my whole life's been a lie. I shouldn't feel betrayed and I don't know why I do."

Ellison pulled Bud close, wrapping his arms around him.

"Don't feel stupid. Don't wave off how ya feel neither. I want ya t' talk to me when ya feel like that, though. I didn't mean t' lose my temper earlier when ya tried talkin' to me."

"'S a'ight. I lost my temper too."

Ellison chuckled and kissed Bud's temple.

"C'mon, up here. We'll sit an' we'll talk until we understand each other. How's that sound?"

"Sounds good t' me, Daddy."

—

**_May 2015_**

Bud swallowed thickly as he followed Ellison through the cemetery, stopping in front of a headstone.

"This is Elli's grave," Ellison whispered. "Never wanted t' bring you out here 'cause I knew you'd find this one an' ask who it was. But since ya know all 'bout Elli now... I think ya have a right t' roam the cemetery if ya want to. We got some over there that died in the 1890s, still got the original stone n ev'rythin'. We did get a new marker for them so's we know who they are, but we left the original ones."

"That's pretty cool," Bud murmured, his eyes scanning the words carved into Elli's headstone.

"Ya know... I think yer Mama thought I'd lost my mind when I told her I'd already put in t' be a foster parent the day after he died. Then after we got you, I pulled out of it. I got the baby I wanted and I didn't think it was right t' leave my name in the system when there's people who want children. I gotta say though, I never thought I'd be standin' here with you. I'd planned t' keep Elli a secret as long as possible, but with everything that happened... Well, I think you should know all that ya can about him. He is your brother."

Bud laid his head against Ellison's shoulder, a sense of guilt overwhelming him. He'd claimed that Ellison had only gotten him to replace Elli. And now that he was here with his father, he could see that no one had been replaced. Ellison still loved Elli as much as he had when he was alive, and Bud wasn't sure Ellison would ever get over the grief that he was expressing now.

It was the first time he'd ever seen his father grieve and he didn't like it. He was used to Ellison being happy and cheerful, always making jokes or trying to lighten Bud's bad mood. He wasn't used to his father trying to suppress his tears and discreetly wipe at the few that spilled onto his face, and he wasn't used to him looking as somber as he did.

"Y'know... I still think I would've gotten you. Even if Elli had lived, I would've gotten you."

Bud looked up at him.

"Why?"

"Well, it's like I said before — it's like God made you for me. You're my son, even if ya ain't biologically mine. I've had ya yer whole life and I love ya more than anythin', kiddo. I can't imagine my life without you in it."

Bud smiled softly.

"I don't want life any other way," he mumbled. "I love you n Mama. Don't want anyone else but you n her. I mean, I love my brothers n sisters, but — but I don't need them, ya know? I made it thirteen years without 'em. I don't think I woulda made it without you n Mama."

"Sure ya would've. If I hadn't taken you, someone else would've."

"But they didn't. You did an' I'm glad ya did. I like bein' your son, Daddy."

"An' I like bein' your father."

"I'm sorry for mentionin' Elli the way I did in November. Uncle Wall said it makes ya upset and... I'm real sorry I ever said ya only got me t' replace him."

Ellison sighed heavily, wrapping an arm around his son.

"Don't apologize. I think it's normal for ya t' think that after findin' out the truth. Ya had a good reason for thinkin' it, baby. I never shoulda ignored ya the way I did when I got mad."

Bud hummed, throwing his arms around his father's waist.

"I can understand it. I don't wanna talk t' people when I get mad at 'em either, Daddy."

Ellison chuckled breathlessly.

"Well, now that you've been out here, would ya like t' go home?"

"Yeah."

—

Bud looked over at Sarah, brows furrowed as he watched her sew one of his shirts.

"There a reason why you're starin', Ty?"

"Did you want me when Daddy came home with me?" Bud asked suddenly.

Sarah stared at him in shock for a few seconds, trying to recover from the sudden blow that she hadn't been expecting.

"I wanted a baby, yes," she answered once she'd recovered her voice. "I did think that your father was divin' into it head-first 'cause he was desperate t' find a way t' distract him from his grief. Not that he got you as a distraction... he just knew that he'd be busy if he got another baby. Babies are fussy and demanding. They want what they want when they want it. You were a peaceful baby, though. The first few nights you weren't, but I reckon ya got used to us an' ya became peaceful. Your daddy was the one gettin' up in the middle of the night. Somehow he always heard you first."

"So... I'm a distraction?"

"No. You're our baby. Ya just... came in our lives at the right time."

"I'm confused, Mama," he shook his head. "Y' said Daddy dove in head-first t' distract himself. Then I've gotta be a distraction."

"You're not a distraction. I shoulda found a better way to word that. He dove in head-first because he was tryin' t' find a way to cope with his grief. So he got himself a baby and he has poured his heart and soul int' raisin' that baby. He's given him all the love that he can and he's still givin' it to him. Yer daddy might not admit it, Tyler, but you were his saving grace."

"Whaddaya mean by that?"

"He was depressed the few months we lived without you. I worried about him every single day when he was like that. I was always scared he'd do somethin' irrational and he'd end up dead or that he'd hurt himself real bad. Then in January, you came along. And God, did he change. He changed for the better. He stayed up with ya that first night. Neither one of ya slept a wink 'cause you was cryin' an' wouldn't go t' sleep. And even when you finally did, he didn't. He just sat there and held ya, stared down at ya like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen."

Bud moved from the chair he was sitting in and sat on the couch beside his mother, wrapping his arms around her arm and placing his head on her shoulder. Sarah brought her left hand up and scratched his scalp, earning a hum of satisfaction as his eyes fluttered shut.

"That feels good, Mama," he murmured. Sarah giggled.

"Glad ya like it, baby."

He hummed and shifted to get more comfortable.

"I didn't sleep much last night," he admitted, his eyelids becoming heavy.

"Why not?" Sarah queried. It wasn't like Bud to stay up half the night.

"Woke m'self up screamin'. Didn't wanna go back t' sleep after that." Bud swallowed the lump in his throat. "Don't think I could've went back t' sleep after that."

"I understand. Why don't ya get some sleep, hm? I'll wake ya up when yer daddy gets home."

"Mkay, Mama. Love you."

"Love you too, baby."

—

Ellison sighed as he entered the kitchen, tossing his keys on the counter.

"Where's my son?"

"He's on the couch. Ya might have t' wake him up if he ain't woke himself up already," Sarah replied, glancing at her husband.

"A'ight, thank ya."

Ellison walked to the living room and spotted the lump on the couch underneath a thick, fluffy blanket. He could see a few strands of honey-brown hair splayed across the pillow at the other end, but that was the only indication that it was his son laying there.

He chuckled and approached, crouching down and peeling the blanket down past his face, finding his son sleeping soundly with his lips parted.

"Hey, Buddy," Ellison whispered, gently shaking his shoulder. "Buddy."

He stirred and made a noise in the back of his throat, but he didn't wake.

"Tyler. Come on, Ty, wake up."

"No, go 'way," he groaned, lazily swatting at his father. "'M tired."

"Tyler, honey, if you don't get up now, you'll be up all night. C'mon, get up, baby. We're s'pposed t' go ridin', remember?"

Bud's eyes shot open, his hazel-green eyes meeting his father's brown eyes.

"Oh, now you're up?" Ellison teased, pinching his side.

"I'm up, Daddy, stop," he grumbled. "'M jus' tired."

"What're you so tired for, hm?"

"Didn't sleep much last night," he whispered, rubbing his eyes. "I woke myself up screamin', Daddy. I've never done that b'fore."

"What in the world did you dream about?"

"I don't know. I can't remember. I... I remember you n Mama bein' involved, and — and I think it was my birth parents? I don't know, Daddy, I can't remember," he shook his head as he sat up. "That scares me a lot. I can't remember what scared me."

"Don't worry about it, baby. It's alright. If it happens again, just wake me up, alright? I can't help ya if I don't know somethin's wrong."

"I know. I just... I don't wanna bother you at night. You n Mama deal with me so much durin' the day, I jus' figure I should keep t' myself at night."

"It's my job t' help you when you need help. That's part of bein' a parent — bein' there for your children when they need you."

"I don't... I don't think it'll happen again," Bud stammered, averting his gaze. "I don't have dreams like that very often."

"Well, if it does happen again, tell me. I'll help ya calm down. Ya know I don't care to."

"It's jus' the point, Daddy," he huffed. "'M thirteen! It's embarrassin' t' go t' you when I have a nightmare."

"There ain't nothin' wrong with it. Lord knows I don't care t' help ya calm down."

"I know... it's jus' the point, Daddy."

"I know," Ellison sighed. "C'mon, you wanna go ridin' or not?"

"Yeah. Let me change an' I'll be out."

"Alright. Hey... I love you."

"I love you too."

—

"_DADDY!_"

Bud lurched to a sitting position, breathing heavily. The door to his room swung open, Ellison rushing inside.

"What, baby?"

"D-Daddy! Daddy, I can't — oh God, Daddy!" Bud sobbed, hanging his head.

"Hey, hey, easy, honey. Easy. You're alright, you're okay. Breathe."

Bud drew in a strangled breath, shoving his face into Ellison's shoulder.

"I didn't — I didn't think it'd happen 'gain, Daddy!" Bud whimpered, clinging tightly to his father.

"I know, honey, I know. You're okay, it's okay. Easy, baby."

"It's — oh God, Daddy, I can't, I can't breathe right! Daddy, I can't breathe!"

"Yeah, ya can. Take in a deep breath, Buddy," Ellison instructed gently. Bud drew in a strangled breath. "There ya go, baby. Keep breathin'."

"Hurts, Daddy, hurts," he choked out. "Lungs hurt."

"'Cause ya ain't breathin' right, Tyler. Come on, baby, breathe."

Bud drew in another breath, his hazel eyes meeting his father's. It continued on like that for a moment with Ellison coaching him and Bud drawing in deep breaths. And after that moment, Bud calmed down and slumped against his father.

"You okay now?" Ellison murmured, pulling his fingers through Bud's hair.

"Mhm. 'M fine."

"Want me t' stay?"

"Please," Bud pleaded softly. "I don't wanna be alone. I don't — I don't wanna be by myself t'night, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry 'bout it, honey. I don't care t' stay in here with ya."

"Thank ya, Daddy."

Ellison hummed as he climbed on the bed, lying down beside his son. Bud curled up against him and nuzzled against his chest, wrapping his arms around Ellison's middle. Ellison wrapped an arm around Bud, his hand rubbing Bud's arm.

"I didn't think it'd happen 'gain, Daddy. I never have dreams like that," Bud whispered shakily. "It scares me."

"I know it does. Sometimes it happens, baby. It ain't no big deal if ya need me t' stay in here wit'cha. I won't lie to ya, Tyler, there's been times I wouldn't go back t' sleep 'cause of a dream I had. Did it not too long ago. But usually, when I have a dream like that, I get up n check on you. I'm usually okay when I know you're okay."

"I can't remember what scares me in the dream. I... I remember that you're there, an' Mama, an' my birth parents, and all my siblings, even Jim n Tolbert. There was a baby, too. Blonde with blue eyes. I dunno, Daddy, it confuses me. I can't remember what scared me so bad."

"Maybe it's best that ya don't," Ellison murmured. "Maybe ya don't need t' know what scares ya."

"It's just _weird. _I can r'member who's in it, I can r'member Tolbert talkin' to me. I r'member you lookin' scared n my birth parents lookin' the same way. Then it's blank after that. Sorta like it all goes black, but I know somethin' happened 'fore I woke myself up screamin' again."

"Don't think on it too much. Maybe it's better that ya don't know, Bud. Sometimes things like that are good."

"I reckon," he murmured. "It's jus' weird, ya know? I've never had nightmares two nights in a row, an' I've never not known what scared me. It's really weird, Daddy."

"I know, baby. Don't spend too much time thinkin' 'bout it."

"You ever done that?" Bud tilted his head upward so he could see his father.

"Once or twice," he nodded. "It was when you were real little. Woke up scared outta my wits n couldn't remember what scared me. That only scared me more."

"So it's normal? I'm not insane or anythin' like that?"

"Nah, you're not insane. A little strange, maybe, but ya ain't insane."

"Oh, Daddy!" Bud smacked his chest, earning a boisterous laugh. "I ain't that strange."

Ellison hummed, bending down and kissing the top of Bud's head.

"I love you, Tyler Jackson," he mumbled.

"Love y' too, Daddy."

—

Bud waved to William as he entered his home, heading straight for the staircase. William reciprocated the gesture as Bud started to ascend the stairs.

He walked down the hall and opened the door to Cap's room, finding his cousin sprawled on his bed.

"Hey," Cap greeted as he closed the door.

"Hey," Bud murmured.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't even know," he sighed. "I've been thinkin' again."

"Come sit down. Talk t' me."

Bud moved to where he sat beside him, sniffling.

"I can't even think straight anymore, Cap," he chuckled, wiping at his eyes. "Ever since I found out... I ain't been able t' think straight. I don't think Daddy's noticed. I know Mama ain't noticed."

"Do ya want them t' notice?" Cap quirked a brow.

"I don't know," he groaned exasperatedly. "That's the problem — _I don't know. _I don't know anything anymore!"

"Well... what'd ya wanna talk t' me about?"

"I... I know I can trust you, so I always talk t' you, y'know?" Bud glanced at Cap, who sat up and nodded. "I just... I feel like you _listen. _And I'm sorry for botherin' ya so much, I really am. But it's like you're the only person who listens without gettin' mad at me or goin' an' tellin' Daddy."

"I don't tell anyone if ya tell me not to. And ya don't bother me. If I didn't wanna listen, I wouldn't listen."

"Daddy's been talkin' 'bout Elli a lot lately," Bud said swiftly. "It's jus'... I dunno, ever since he found out that I've known since August, Elli's been brought up _every single day. _I-I know it's stupid, everything I've felt and thought lately has been stupid, but I get t' thinkin' and it just — how do I word it? It seems like I realize somethin' every time I let myself get lost in my thoughts."

"Like what?" Cap shifted slightly.

"Like he loves Elli more."

"How could he possibly do that?" Cap scoffed. "Elli's been dead for thirteen years."

"I know that. Ya see how stupid it sounds? It just... I dunno, Cap, it really don't — Daddy loves Elli more 'cause he's his real son. Even if he died 'fore Daddy had the chance t' raise him, he loves him more. An' I reckon it's okay. I mean, I'm not really his son. Why would he love me more than he does his real one?"

"Ty... I really don't think he loves Elli more. I mean, I totally understand what you're sayin', I can see how ya got t' the point that ya think that, but I don't think he loves Elli more than he does you. I think he loves you more than he does Elli, but he feels like he can finally talk about him."

"Maybe. But it's diff'rent with me n Elli. He can get rid of me if he wants to, can easily deny me. Take a DNA test and I'm a McCoy. I ain't a Hatfield."

"You're really strugglin' with your thoughts, ain't ya?" Cap asked softly.

"Mhm," he hummed and nodded, fighting against his tears. "I can't stop 'em, Cap. I've tried."

"I think it's normal. And I think ya need t' talk t' Ellison. Ellison can help ya with it more than I can. Ya know that as well as I do, Tyler."

"He's mad at me again," Bud whispered. "I stopped goin' to him when I have panic attacks. I can calm myself down, I don't need t' wake him up. He caught me havin' one last night n got mad when he found out I ain't been goin' to him. Told him I can handle it myself an' it jus' made it worse. I don't understand why he gets mad at me over that. He looked at me last night n told me he knew it wa'n't 'cause of no stupid reason like last time. I made him mad again, Cap. Reckon I won't talk t' him 'til he calms down 'gain."

Cap sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He should've known that was why Bud had come straight to him.

"Ya sure he's still mad at ya?"

"Yeah. He didn't speak t' me at all this mornin'."

"Did you lose your temper last night?"

"No. All I said was that I didn't need t' wake him up when they weren't bad n I could calm myself down. He got mad at me."

"It's not like Ellison t' get mad over somethin' like that," Cap murmured mostly to himself.

"I know. I don't understand why he got mad at me. He asked and I answered truthfully, I told him they weren't bad n I could calm myself down. I don't know what I did wrong this time. Daddy never gets mad unless I do somethin' wrong."

"Who's t' say you're the one that's wrong?" Cap countered. "What if he's wrong, Ty?"

"Daddy's never wrong," Bud disputed swiftly. "Not once has he ever been wrong."

"He didn't handle it very well when he got mad at you last time."

"Daddy don't get mad often. When he does, he's a force t' be reckoned with."

"I'd say. If he's anything like Daddy, he's scary when he gets mad."

"Yeah..." Bud trailed off, placing his head against Cap's shoulder. "He can be scary."

"Ya scared of him?" Cap turned his head toward him.

"Not unless he's mad at me. As if he wasn't scary enough, now I've got all kinds of things t' consider when he's mad at me. Like — like he could easily get rid of me if he wanted to, that if he decided he don't want me anymore, it wouldn't take much t' get rid of me. Or maybe he don't want me but he's lettin' me stay outta pity. The way Mama put it, I was a distraction when he got me. I distracted him from his grief and replaced the baby that he lost. That's all I did, Cap."

"Maybe he'll calm down by the time ya go home."

"I doubt it."

—

Bud knew that Ellison was likely going to kill him when he found out that he'd swiped the cases of moonshine he'd hidden beneath the sink, but Bud didn't care.

He'd taken off to the shed, closing the door with his foot and making his way to the farthest corner, sitting against the wall and placing the two cases of moonshine down. Bud didn't know why Ellison had it; Ellison never drank moonshine.

He grabbed one of the bottles and removed the wooden cork, taking a swig. It burned his throat and tasted bitter, but he didn't care. He felt that he could get back at his father this way; that if he did one thing that he knew would make Ellison mad, he would be even with him.

Bud didn't care if he found him or not. He knew that Ellison would figure it out sooner or later and that he'd get mad at him, but he didn't care. Bud couldn't have cared less about it.

He took another swig of moonshine, licking his lips. It was going to be a _long _day.

—

Bud was undeniably drunk. He was drunk after he'd finished the first bottle of moonshine, but he'd kept drinking, as it had started to make him forget about his problems.

He heard the door open and shut, but he remained silent, leaning his head back against the wall. He exhaled deeply, holding the bottle he'd been drinking from in his hand. He lifted it and took a sip, licking his lips as he lowered his hand again.

Ellison found him.

The concern on his face morphed into fury when he saw Bud, Ellison sighing deeply as he grabbed Bud's bicep and pulled him to his feet.

"What the heck is wrong with you?" he demanded.

"Nothin', Daddy," Bud slurred, shaking his head slightly.

"I swear, Tyler, I don't know what t' do with ya anymore! Want me t' hit ya? Is that what yer goin' for?!"

"Daddy, I—"

Bud stopped talking when his father backhanded him, causing his head to whip to his left. He slowly brought his right hand up, cupping his stinging cheek as he stared at his father with his lips parted, trying to form words.

"Elli never woulda gave me this much trouble," Ellison scoffed. "He woulda listened t' me."

Bud's heart sunk to his stomach. Was that a way of saying he didn't want him anymore? That Ellison had always loved Elli more than Bud and he always would?

"There's not many things I tell you not t' do. Why can't you listen t' me? I _never _shoulda told you that you're adopted. I've had nothin' but trouble outta you ever since you found that out. Ya think that jus' 'cause ya ain't really mine that ya can do whatever the heck you want? Is that what's wrong with ya, Tyler?"

"N-no," Bud shook his head.

"My God, Tyler, what am I s'pposed t' do with you?! Ya won't listen!"

Bud flinched away from him when he stepped closer.

"You have lost your dagon mind. You're insane, Tyler, that's what you are! I've never seen someone so hard to handle in my life! I never had a bit of trouble outta you 'fore ya found out you're adopted. Now ya run off t' Anse's house ev'ry time I get a little mad at you like you're some baby that needs t' be coddled. So what's wrong with you, huh? Do ya not wanna live here or somethin'? I'm sure we can work somethin' out if ya don't wanna live here."

Tears welled in Bud's hazel eyes, his breath hitching. He hadn't meant to make him so mad. He'd just wanted to get even with him, to do something out of spite so Ellison really would have a reason to get mad at him. He'd never meant for it to go as far as it had.

"Do you not realize that ya can get the both of us in trouble?! You're underage! If anyone finds out that you're drunk an' reports it, I'm goin' t' jail and you're goin' in the system. Ya want that? Huh? Ya want that, Tyler?!" Ellison shouted. Bud shook his head. "Git yer hide in that house, ya understand me?"

"Y-yes, sir," Bud forced out.

He blanched when Ellison roughly grabbed his arm, dragging him out of the shed and inside the house. He was practically dragged up the stairs and down the hall to his room, where his father only shoved him on the bed and covered him up.

"Sleep it off, ya moron," he grumbled. "We're gonna talk when you're sober."

—

Ellison was furious. He'd never had so much trouble out of Bud; it was almost like he was doing it just to see what he could get away with.

"Ellison, where's Tyler?" Sarah asked as she entered their room, tossing her braided hair over her shoulder.

"He's in bed 'cause he's drunk. I swear, sometimes he's a dagon idiot."

"_Drunk? _Tyler? Are ya sure?"

"He took the dagon 'shine out from under the sink, Sarah! At this point, it's like he's tryin' t' see what he can get away with! That boy is as drunk as could be, and he don't care! Maybe he's tryin' t' hint that he don't wanna live here anymore, I don't know. I'm 'bout t' give him what he wants."

"You'll do no such thing," Sarah stated firmly. "He's a boy, Ellison. Boys do stupid things."

"Well, he knows better than t' do that," he seethed. "I've _told him _time an' time again not t' touch the dagon 'shine. He can get both of us in trouble, ya know that? We'll be goin' t' jail n he'll be put in the system again!"

"Ellison, ya need t' calm down."

"Why is it every time he does somethin', I'm the one who needs t' calm down?"

"'Cause yer gonna end up doin' somethin' ya regret if ya don't control that temper of yours. He's _struggling, _Ellison. And he's tryin' his darndest t' hide it from us. He's tryin' t' hide how much he's hurting and struggling with everything. He tries t' hide how much it hurts him when you say certain things or get mad at him the way ya do. Ya've never been hot-headed, Ellison, but here lately, ya've gotten mad at him over every little thing."

"Yeah, of course. I'm always the one in the wrong, Sarah."

"I never said that. I said you've been gettin' mad at him a lot over every little thing."

"So what, I'm supposed t' just let him do what he wants? Let him run around and get drunk, let him get himself hurt? That what ya want?" Ellison raised his voice.

"No. What I want is for you t' calm down and talk t' him. Maybe ya both need t' listen t' each other, I don't know. But I know that this ain't like the two of ya. My boys don't do this."

"We're gonna end up losin' him anyways, so what's it matter?" Ellison asked shakily.

"What're you talkin' about?" Sarah sighed tiredly.

"He'll leave us an' go t' his real family. Once they put the idea in his head, he'll want t' leave. I'm not gonna be the one gettin' hurt when he leaves."

"You're scared," she murmured, eyes widening in realization. "Ya can't control your mean temper 'cause you're scared."

"I'm not scared," he denied, his voice still trembling as he played with a loose string on his shirt. "I don't care if he does leave."

"And you're a liar."

Ellison's eyes flicked up and met Sarah's. He didn't say anything; he just nodded slightly.

"I know you, Ellison. You're scared you're gonna lose him too."

"Ya don't understand. You'll _never _understand it, a'ight? You'll never understand how much it hurts t' lose your child. I'd rather not go through it again with this one."

"Who says that ya will? Tyler loves you. That little boy loves you more than anyone else in this world. You're not gonna help anybody by losin' your temper all the time. Ya ain't gonna help him by screamin' at him, Ellison."

"I know," his voice dropped to a whisper.

"Ya ever thought about it, Ellison? That maybe he was hidin' somethin' from ya?"

"No."

"How many times have ya gotten mad at him without a reason?"

"God, I don't know," he shook his head, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Gettin' mad at him for no reason will make him do somethin' t' make ya mad. I know our son, Ellison, and I know that he got drunk t' spite ya."

"He can find better ways t' spite me," Ellison mumbled, earning a snort from his wife. "I'd rather not have a heart attack 'cause my son's disappeared with moonshine."

"Did ya get mad at him again?"

"Of course, I got mad at him again! He didn't care at all. Didn't even really try t' hide. Sittin' in the shed drinkin' 'shine like it's somethin' he's done his entire life."

"Don't matter none. Did ya not think t' ask him first?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I got mad, Sarah!" he responded irritably. "I saw him drinkin' an' I got mad, a'ight?!"

"Calm down. I'm just tryin' t' talk to ya, Ellison."

Ellison huffed and pulled his fingers through his hair.

"I'm calm, Sarah. Just a little annoyed."

"Go see if he's awake. If I know Ty like I think I do, he's still awake in there."

"Why don't you?" he said swiftly.

"A'ight, what'd ya do, Ellison?" Sarah queried, sitting down beside him.

"Got mad. I wa'n't very nice to him. I didn't even think, Sarah. I hit him."

"You _what?_" Sarah gawked.

"I hit him," Ellison repeated. "I backhanded him across the face."

"Go talk to him."

"Sarah—"

"It's best ya fix it now rather than try to later."

"Alright."

—

Ellison didn't go to Bud's room until the next morning. (Well, he'd checked the night before and Bud had been sleeping, so he'd left him alone.)

When he entered the room, Bud was blankly staring at the wall, tears rolling down his pale face. Ellison closed the door, causing him to look at him.

"Hey, baby."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he blurted, sniffling as he sat up. "I just — I was mad an' I didn't think it through, an' I'm _so sorry, _Daddy!"

"Woah, hey, easy, Tyler. I'm not mad. I never should've lost my temper with ya. Last night or any time before that."

"N-no, it's alright. I d'served it. Ev'ry time ya've gotten mad at me, I've d'served it over somethin' I've done or said. I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry for hurtin' you. I shouldn't've laid a hand on you."

"No, you were right. You're always right."

"I'm not always right. I was wrong. The second I drew my hand back on you, I was in the wrong. I never should've hit you, ya understand me? I shouldn't've put my hand on you."

"It's okay," he said swiftly. "I'm sorry for gettin' drunk. And I'm sorry for everything I've done lately. I'm really sorry, Daddy."

"Hey, stop," Ellison muttered as he sat on the edge of the bed. "_Stop. _Calm down an' talk to me, honey."

Bud tensed and bit his lip, trying to force himself to calm down.

"I'm really sorry. I... I know I ain't the son ya want, I can't be the son ya want. Y' want Elli n I ain't Elli. 'M sorry. I'll — I'll make it seem like I ain't here, I'll only do what you n Mama tells me to, I swear it—"

"Woah! Woah, baby, where'd you get that idea? I want you. Don't want no one but you."

"No," he shook his head, "y' said y' never woulda had this much trouble outta Elli, that he woulda listened. I—I'm sorry, Daddy. I don't know what else t' say other than 'm sorry an' that I won't bother ya none. I don't wanna live nowhere else, I swear I don't, Daddy. Y' can hit me if ya want, I don't care. Won't tell if ya do, I promise, Daddy."

Ellison's heart shattered.

"Oh God, honey, no."

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Hey, hey, look at me. I am _never _gonna hit you again. I ain't ever gonna get mad at ya without a reason, an' I ain't gonna let myself say stupid things I don't mean. I never meant t' hurt ya or make ya feel that way, Ty. I never meant t' put it in your head that I don't want you. You're my baby. Why wouldn't I want you?"

"I'm not yours, though. Y' can get rid of me anytime ya want, deny me if ya wanna. I look nothin' like you or Mama, an' it'd be easily proven that I ain't yours. I ain't a good son, I'm sorry I'm not. But I love y', Daddy. I love y' a lot. I know that don't really mean nothin', but I do. I love ya a lot, Daddy."

"I ain't ever gonna deny ya or get rid of ya. Ya ain't somethin' that can be replaced or forgotten. Yer my son, my little boy, even if ya ain't that little anymore. Ya might not be my biological son, Tyler, but I've had ya all your life. I raised ya an' I love ya more than anythin' else in this world. You sayin' that ya love me means ev'rythin' to me.

"I try my best t' give ya a good home n a good life. Try t' give ya someone you can look up to when ya need to. Try t' always be here n be willin' t' listen. I ain't been doin' very good with those last two things. I've been s' scared that I couldn't control my temper. And I'm sorry. I shoulda listened to ya, baby. If I woulda listened when ya tried talkin' to me, ya never woulda done what ya did. I'm really sorry, baby."

"'S okay, Daddy. I understand why ya were mad last night. Never seen ya that mad before, though. Y' scared me a little."

"I know I did. I should never scare you, know that? I'm not supposed t' scare you. Tell me when I do. It's never done on purpose."

"It's fine. Don't hurt t' be scared now n then. But I did whatcha said last night. I slept it off."

"I know you did. I came in t' see if you were still awake n you were sleepin'. I figure all that 'shine you drank helped with it."

"Prolly," he nodded in agreement.

"Ya gonna do it again?" Ellison shot him a look.

"No, sir. Won't ever touch it 'gain, I swear."

"I think ya learned yer lesson the hard way with that one. An' I don't think I'll ever have t' worry 'bout you drinkin' again. Ya found out the hard way that ya get sick in the mornin', didn't ya?"

"Yeah."

"Thought so. Sickness go away?"

"Mhm," he hummed, leaning into his father's touch when he gently cupped Bud's cheek. He rubbed his thumb against Bud's skin, watching his eyes flutter shut.

Ellison smiled softly, watching his son relax. It had been a while since he'd seen him look so relaxed, and he knew that he was the one that was mostly at fault for it. He'd made Bud so uneasy that he hadn't felt comfortable enough to relax in his own home.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," he said again, forcing his eyes open. "I promise I won't give ya no trouble. Promise I'll jus' do what you n Mama tell me to. Won't do nothin' else n I won't bother ya. I promise."

"Tyler Jackson, stop apologizin' an' promisin' that ya won't do anythin'. I want ya t' do whatever ya want to, son. Just... not things that'll get ya in a bunch of trouble. An' if ya ain't sure 'bout the consequences of somethin', just ask me. Okay?"

"Okay. But I'm still—"

"You say sorry one more time an' I'll knock you out like a light," Ellison threatened, even though Bud knew he was joking.

"That ain't very nice," Bud quipped, the corner of his lip turning upward.

"Did I ever claim t' be nice?" Ellison retorted.

"Once or twice," Bud shrugged lightly.

"Yeah, okay. C'mere, son, gimme a hug."

Bud giggled and scooted closer, wrapping his arms around him and tucking his head in the crook of Ellison's neck. Ellison wrapped his arms around him, rubbing Bud's back.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, baby."

—

**_September 2015_**

Bud didn't want to move. He felt absolutely horrible and he didn't want to move from his bed.

He didn't really know what was wrong with him; he knew that his head and chest hurt, and that his body was going from too hot to too cold in less than three seconds, so he figured his best bet was to stay in bed.

"Ty? C'mon, baby, we gotta — what in the world happened t' you?" Ellison blinked when he saw him.

"Don't feel s' good, Daddy," he rasped, wincing at the sound of his voice.

"Yeah, I can tell," Ellison murmured mostly to himself. "How 'bout you stay here in bed t'day, hm? I'll bring ya somethin' back."

Bud nodded. That sounded like a wonderful idea.

"Whatcha want?"

"I dunno. Jus' somethin', Daddy," he mumbled, closing his eyes as Ellison smoothed his hair back. He turned his head away from him and brought his right hand up, coughing harshly.

"Or maybe we can postpone—"

"N-no, 'm okay, Daddy. You an' Mama can go. 'S fer William's birthday."

"I know what it's for. But I wouldn't care t' skip it this year if you want me to. I've been goin' t' his birthday dinner all my life, Tyler. It won't hurt t' miss it one year."

"But Daddy—"

"Don't ya _but Daddy _me. We'll arrange our own little dinner for him when you get better, that way you don't miss anything and I don't worry myself sick. I'll even let ya plan it out if that'll make ya happy."

"Okay," Bud agreed softly. "Hey, Daddy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Will y' stay here wit' me?"

Ellison chuckled softly. He should've expected that. Bud had always been clingy when he was sick.

"Yeah. Let me go tell yer Mama that we ain't goin' so she can call Levicy. I'll be right back, okay?"

"'Kay. Thank you."

"Think nothin' of it, Buddy."

—

Ellison sighed as he rinsed Bud's hair, knowing that his son was humiliated. Bud had woken up and thrown up all over himself before he even had the chance to move, and with the way he was — delirious and having little to no motor skills — Ellison didn't trust to leave him in the bathtub on his own.

"'M sorry, Daddy," Bud mumbled, putting his forehead against his knees.

"No, it's okay, baby. Ya couldn't help it."

"Feel awful." He stopped talking as bile rose in his throat. He swallowed thickly. "I dunno wha's wrong wit' me."

"You're sick. That's what's wrong wit'cha."

"I've never done that, though," Bud pointed out.

"Well... well, maybe there's just somethin' diff'rent this time. It's fine, we'll find a way to fix it so it won't happen again. And even if it does, it's not a big deal. I don't care t' help, kiddo."

"I feel really gross, Daddy," he admitted softly.

"I know," Ellison murmured sympathetically. "But it's alright. We'll clean ya up, change the bedclothes, an' then we'll put ya back t' bed after givin' ya some medicine. I'm sure we've got somethin' t' help with the nausea."

"Sometimes that makes it worse."

"But most of the time, it helps."

"Reckon ya got a point." A beat of silence. "'M so embarrassed, Daddy."

"I know, baby. I know you are."

"I'm real sorry."

"I know. But ya don't have t' be. It happens t' the best of us, Ty. Ya can't really control what happens when yer sick, honey. Here, lift your head up for me."

Bud lifted his head, shivering when Ellison started to scrub his chest with a washcloth.

"Tha's real cold, Daddy," he muttered.

"It's just where you're feverish."

"Y' sure?"

"Is it ever cold when you take a shower?"

"No."

"Then I'm sure. You're just feverish and chilling. We'll find somethin' t' help break your fever too... maybe we got somethin', I don't know. Worries me when ya get this way."

"Why?" Bud inquired, his eyes meeting his father's.

"I watched one of my sons die from an illness, Tyler. Before he died, he'd caught pneumonia or somethin' like it, an' he developed a really bad fever. We'd made another trip to the hospital the week we had him. They told us there was nothing they could do for him because he was so weak, nothin' woulda helped. So when we brought him back home... I tried my best t' show him just how much I loved him. I've seen what a fever can do to ya. I don't want that for you."

Bud turned his head and coughed, Ellison gently patting his back as the cough seemed to rattle his lungs. He drew in a shallow breath and looked at his father.

"I think I'll be okay, Daddy," he rasped.

"I know you will be. If I think that somethin' ain't right, we'll be makin' a trip to the doctor t' get you some medicine that will actually help. I'm gonna let ya get dressed now. If ya get dizzy again, just yell at me, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome, baby."

—

"Hey, Cap," Ellison greeted his nephew as he walked into the living room. "What're you doin' here?"

"Lookin' for Tyler. He ain't answered me at all t'day an' I'm a little worried."

"He's upstairs. He was sleepin' last time I checked on him. Gotta warn ya if ya plan on goin' up — he's sick. Like, really sick. I won't let him out of bed."

"Geez," Cap murmured. "He alright though?"

"Yeah, he's okay. Feverish and hateful and clingy, but he's a'ight. He's a little emotional too."

Cap hummed and sat down beside Ellison, bending down and tying the laces on his sneaker.

"Daddy was lookin' forward t' seein' him t'day. So I texted him t' ask him why y'all didn't come, and he never answered, so I did get worried. Ty always answers me. The only time he don't is when he's sleepin'. Or when he's in the shower."

"Nothin' wrong with worryin'. You two are close. I worry about him a lot, Cap. He's acted diff'rent ever since he found out he's adopted. And you know that he was diagnosed with depression when he was twelve... Reckon it's just takin' a toll on his mental health."

"Don't help that he's an over-thinker. He's told me a lot of stuff he's thought of while layin' in bed and... I don't know how, but I talk him out of most of it. The last time I didn't talk him out of it, he got drunk. I tried, though. Tried my hardest t' talk him outta that one. I didn't know he was gonna go get drunk, Ellison, or I never woulda let him leave."

"That was more on me than anyone else. He did it outta spite."

"Yeah... Daddy told me 'bout that."

Ellison hummed, scratching the side of his face before he glanced at Cap.

"Sometimes your Daddy tells ya too much."

Cap chuckled.

"I think I'll go up n see if he's awake."

"Okay. Don't let him outta bed unless he has t' go to the bathroom. I love him an' all, but I can't let him roam too much. He's been lightheaded an' he nearly collapsed on me earlier."

"Yeah, I'll make sure he don't leave."

"Thank ya, Cap."

"Don't thank me yet. I haven't won the battle," Cap quipped, earning a snort of laughter from Ellison.

"Good luck."

"I'll need it."

—

Bud whined as he shifted, blinking slowly as the door opened.

"Ty? Hey," Cap smiled softly, stepping inside and closing the door.

"'Ey," he mumbled as Cap crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. "How're you?"

"Fine. How're you?"

"Been better. But not as bad as it could be, I reckon. William upset that we didn't go?"

"He didn't let it show. But sometimes, Daddy's eyes give him away. After ev'ryone left, he said that he missed ya an' that he's gonna find a way t' see ya. He was lookin' forward to ya comin' over."

"I feel so bad," Bud sniffled. "I wanted t' go, I really did. But I woke up n felt absolutely horr'ble n Daddy said we wasn't goin' anywhere. Or that's basically what he said, I can't remember it word for word."

"Don't feel bad. Daddy'll understand when he finds out why ya didn't come. Ya can't help that yer sick, Ty."

"M-move, I gotta — gotta get up. Oh God, I forgot all 'bout William's gift. I gotta—"

"You gotta stay in bed," Cap insisted, grasping his biceps. "Daddy'll come get it, it's okay. You can't get up as sick as you are."

"I've gotta, Cap! I jus' gotta get William his gift."

"I'll call him n have him come over, Tyler. _Stay in bed._"

Bud huffed and laid down again, shifting onto his side. He didn't necessarily want to, but he knew that his parents would side with Cap this time and he really didn't want to fight. So he would stay where he was and he would wait for William to show up.

—

Bud clutched the binder to his chest, his eyes flicking toward the door as it opened.

"William!"

"Hey, Ty," Anse beamed at him. "What'd ya want?"

Bud sat up, handing Anse the binder.

"What's this, kiddo?"

"'S the story y' wanted. Took me two years, but I got it done. Edited it n everythin', William. An' unless y' let someone else read it, yer the only one that'll read it."

"You wrote a novel?" William blinked, sitting down beside Bud and leaning against the headboard.

"Mhm," he nodded. "It's the one ya wanted."

"Well, I thank ya. But ya didn't have t' spend all that time writin' a novel for me, Tyler," William chuckled. "Why don't ya come back here, hm? We'll read it."

"I ain't a baby, William," Bud rolled his eyes playfully.

"What I meant was I'll read it an' you'll get some rest. Ya look tired, honey."

"I am," he mumbled.

"Then c'mere. You get some sleep an' I'll start readin' this, a'ight?"

"A'ight. I love y', William."

"Love ya too, Tyler."

—

Bud was allowed to leave his room three days later. He wasn't as bad as he had been, had even asked Sarah if they had anything he could eat that wouldn't make his stomach upset, and had been directed to the couch before she left to fix him something to eat.

He shivered under his blanket, flipping through the channels and frowning. There was never anything good on TV. He ended up watching _The Lion King, _which happened to be one of his favorite Disney movies.

"Lion King again?" Sarah quirked a brow as she handed him a bowl of tomato soup.

"It's the only thing on," he grumbled. "Thank ya, Mama."

"You're welcome, baby," she smiled softly. She sat down beside him, Bud's eyes scanning her as the corner of his lip turned upward. "I hope ya get better soon. I kinda miss all the craziness. I like it better when yer healthy."

"Ya ain't the only one."

"I know. Why don't ya eat 'fore it gets cold, hm? Won't be no good if it's cold."

"Mkay. Don't — don't go anywhere, please. I don't wanna be 'lone, Mama."

"A'ight, baby. I'll stay here wit'cha."

"Thank ya."

"Don't mention it, baby. Now, will ya please eat?"

"Yeah, Mama."

—

After eating, Bud had curled up against Sarah and fell asleep, using her shoulder as a pillow. Sarah didn't mind it; she played with his unruly curls while he slept, gazing down at him lovingly. She'd missed him curling up against her and sleeping soundly, a silent way of showing his love for her, in her eyes.

Bud was one who often professed his love for his parents and his family; one who didn't care to show affection for his family members. But there was something about him curling up against Sarah the way he used to when he was a small child that made her feel like it was one way of him showing her how much he loved her.

It was something that he'd used to do quite often, and he'd stopped doing it when he was around seven. She never missed how he could curl up against Ellison when he thought they were alone, or when he thought no one was looking at them. Bud tried to fit in; he tried everything he could think of to fit in with the other boys in the valley, but Bud wasn't like them. He was different and it was a good different.

"Sarah! Sarah, where's my son?" Ellison asked as he entered the room, looking flustered as his eyes landing on Bud. He huffed a sigh of relief, pulling his fingers through his hair.

"He's sleepin'," Sarah answered, gazing down at the sleeping boy. "I miss my baby bein' little."

"Me too. I miss him bein' real little."

"One thing that's never changed, though, is the way he looks at you, Ellison. He looks at you like you're the best man on earth. And in his eyes, you are. He looks up t' ya an' he loves ya more than anythin'. He couldn't hide that if he tried."

"An' how 'bout how he looks at you?" Ellison countered, sitting down beside her. "Tyler's eyes give him away. And Cap might tell me a few things he says when they're over there. Like he thinks yer the most wonderful woman on earth. He thinks highly of you. You'll prob'ly be the one answerin' all his questions about girls once he finds a pretty girl he likes."

Sarah laughed and placed her head on Ellison's shoulder.

"I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world. But I would trade everything I have and I've ever had for him. He's made my life so much better. It's kinda funny t' think that he don't know how much he's helped us; how many times he's kept us from doin' somethin' we'd probably regret the instant we did it. He saved you. I know he saved you. You're only alive because you got him."

"It was just a really rough time for me, Sarah. I wasn't gonna—"

"Yes, you were. I know you were. Tyler Jackson was your savin' grace, Ellison."

"Yeah... yeah, he was," Ellison nodded in agreement. "My baby boy... God, it don't seem like he should be as old as he is. Seems like it was yesterday I was chasin' him 'round the house."

Sarah giggled at that. She looked down at the sleeping boy, whose face was flushed with his lips slightly parted, his honey-brown hair splayed across his forehead as he snored lightly. She played with his unruly curls, which only seemed to appear every so often.

She remembered thinking that Bud would have extremely curly hair because of the way it had been when he was little. It had straightened out a bit, though, and often laid like it was straight once he combed it. The only times it didn't, it was either raining or it was a humid day, and then there were days that his hair just seemed to do whatever it wanted to for no good reason.

Bud stirred, pulling her from her thoughts. He nuzzled against her and exhaled deeply, never waking as he shifted ever so slightly. He made a noise in the back of his throat that caused Ellison to giggle.

"Think we'll be here a while?" Ellison drawled, his eyes alight with mirth.

"Probably. He seems pretty tired," Sarah pointed out with a slight laugh.

"True. How's he been t'day?"

"He ate. He wanted to eat. After he ate, he fell asleep, so he really ain't done much."

Ellison hummed and nodded. Maybe that meant Bud was getting better.

—

**_November 2015_**

Bud glanced up at his uncle, his brows furrowing as he bit down on his lip. It was unusual for Anse to show up alone.

"I finished your novel. It was amazing, kiddo."

"Glad ya liked it," Bud beamed at him.

"Course I did. You wrote it for me. And it was a darn good one, too. One of the best I've read."

"Now yer gettin' ridiculous."

"I am not! I'm bein' honest with ya. And I do thank ya for takin' the time t' write that for me. One heck of a good book, Ty."

"Can I ask you somethin'?" Bud asked swiftly, the smile dropping as he lowered his head and picked at his nails.

"Sure."

"Is it... is it weird t' miss someone ya never knew?"

Anse paused for a moment, hesitant to answer the question.

"Whaddaya mean?"

"Like... is it weird t' sit around and miss someone that you didn't even know? Someone ya don't remember," he elaborated, his eyes flicking up and meeting Anse's.

"Well, I reckon it all depends on who it is," Anse answered after a few seconds. "Who ya missin', kiddo?"

"My birth family. My parents and Jim and Tolbert. I've been thinkin' 'bout Tolbert a lot lately, William. I don't know, it's just really weird. I started t' go through ev'rythin' again last month and just... started t' miss them. And—and _grieve_ them, I guess is the word for it. I don't even know what it is I'm doin', but it's just like an overwhelmin' sadness settled in and it ain't left. I can't get it t' go away."

"It's hard for you. I think if you could remember them, it wouldn't be nearly as bad on ya. Ya never really knew 'em and that takes its toll on ya once ya find out about your birth family. And sometimes it takes it a while t' really hit ya, an' when it does, it hits ya all at once. Like the way yours did. But that's okay. Ya've got me, an' Cap, an' yer Mama n Daddy. We're all here for ya. Every single one of us, includin' Uncle Jim."

"I'm kinda scared t' tell Mama n Daddy. They're gettin' bad again," he confessed quietly, knowing that Anse would know what he was talking about.

Anse exhaled deeply through his nostrils, pulling Bud to his feet and into a tight embrace.

"Talk t' one of us. Talk t' yer Daddy. He'd know how t' help ya with those better than anyone else. Or if ya want, I'll tell him it's gettin' bad again and he can talk to ya."

"Would you please? Every time I try t' do it, somethin' goes wrong and he gets real mad at me."

"Yeah, Tyler. I'll do it for ya. Don't be so jumpy. It's just yer Daddy yer gonna be talkin' to."

"Scares me, though. I don't want him gettin' mad at me 'gain," he sniffled.

"He ain't gonna get mad atcha. I think he'll understand. Ya sure ya want me t' tell him?"

"Yeah," he nodded slightly. "'M sorry t' get ya involved, but — but 'm jus' real scared, William."

"Hey, I don't mind tellin' him for ya. You two can talk it out once he finds out about it. Alright?"

"A'ight. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

—

"Hey, baby," Ellison greeted as he stepped inside Bud's room, startling him. Bud yelped and jumped, letting out a breath once he realized it was Ellison. "Sorry. Didn't mean t' scare ya."

"That's okay," Bud waved it off. "William tell ya?"

"Yeah, Anse told me. Ya know, all ya had t' do was say it's gettin' bad again and I would've understood what ya meant."

"It always comes out wrong when I try t' tell ya. Y' always end up gettin' real mad an' I don't want ya gettin' mad at me 'gain, Daddy."

"Didn't I promise you I'd try my best not t' get mad at ya anymore? Not until I had a very good reason for it?"

"Y-yeah, but... it still comes out wrong, Daddy."

"That's okay. We'll find a way for ya t' tell me when ya start feelin' this way," he assured him, crouching down and carding his fingers through Bud's hair. "We'll figure somethin' out. Even if it's just you textin' me n sayin' it's bad again. Wanna do it that way?"

"Guess so," Bud whispered.

"Alright. Now that we've got that settled, what's botherin' ya, baby?"

"I miss them," Bud admitted softly, hanging his head low.

"Miss who?" Ellison queried, brows furrowing.

"M-my birth parents and Tolbert and Jim. I don't know, it's just... it's _weird, _Daddy. I'm grieving people I don't even know, an' I miss 'em so bad. I don't know why."

"That's okay. You don't have t' know why. Tell ya what... First thing t'morrow, we're gonna go t' Kentucky. We'll go t' the McCoy Cemetery and you can talk to 'em if ya want. I talk t' Elli all the time when I visit his grave, so there ain't a thing wrong with it. Sometimes... sometimes that's the only way ya can make it any better. By talking to them."

"Really?"

"Mhm. I think it'd do ya good t' go out there n get whatever it is off your chest. It'll make ya feel better. And even if it don't make ya feel much better, ya've at least found a way t' talk t' the people ya miss. Any time ya wanna go out there, all ya gotta do is say so."

"Thank ya, Daddy," Bud smiled lightly, the corners of his lips turned upward as his hazel eyes met Ellison's brown ones.

"Yer welcome, Bud."

—

Bud had never been to the cemetery. He'd been shown photos of the graves and had found its location online, but he'd never actually been to it.

So he walked through it, his eyes scanning the name written on each stone. He stopped when he got to the one with Ran'l and Sally's names written on it, bending down.

"Hey... I-I know ya don't know me n I don't know you, but you've both been a huge part of my life the past year. I'm still learnin' 'bout y'all. Tryin' t' learn all I can t' see if I'm anythin' like either of ya. I... I know that most things are learned, but it'd be nice t' be a little like both of ya. Yer my real parents, after all, an' I wouldn't mind bein' like ya.

"M-maybe I should tell ya who I am. My name's Randolph McCoy, Junior. 'Parently y'all called me Bud. I was adopted right after y'all died. I got placed in a good home with two wonderful people — Ellison and Sarah Ann Hatfield. Daddy says he knew y'all an' that ya were good people. He says he can see you n Jim n Tolbert in me sometimes, but I dunno how true it is.

"He also said that this might help me; me comin' out here an' talkin' t' you. I've been missin' ya a lot lately n I don't even really know ya. I mean, I know that I did at one point in time, but I can't remember it. It just feels really weird t' grieve someone I can't even remember. But the more I find out 'bout y'all, the more I fall in love with ya an' wish that ya woulda lived. Ya seem like you were great people. I don't fully understand how I can feel this way about people I've never met, but I don't mind it. You're my birth parents and I love you. Even if I never did really get the chance to meet you."

His hand glided along the stone before he got up, moving to the next one. _Tolbert._

"H-hey. Uhm... God, this is so hard. Reckon it's good t' start with an introduction? I'm Bud... your baby brother. I don't, um, know what t' say to ya, Tolbert. I really miss you. I don't remember you, but I miss you. I miss you so much.

"You're in my dreams a lot, but—but you're older than ten. It's like you're the age ya would be now if you were still alive. That's what, twenty-four? Yeah. I wish you were still alive. If you were alive, I wouldn't have t' rely on my dreams t' see you an' actually hold a conversation with ya. And I know it's weird! I know it's weird that some awkward teenager is havin' dreams about talkin' t' you when you're older than what ya were when ya died, but... I can't control it and I really don't want it to stop.

"I'm sorry I'm so weird. Daddy swears that I ain't weird, that I'm just unique, but... I don't think that's the case. I really am sorry. I'm just tryin' t' get all this off my chest and—and I really wish you were alive so you could respond."

Bud burst into tears, his chin touching his chest as he hung his head.

"I don't know how t' say all this n I feel like I'm crazy talkin' t' ya this way. An' I don't really know how t' say what I want t' say, so I just... I keep talkin' 'til I feel like I've said what I wanted to." He paused and swallowed thickly. "I love you. I love you so much. I — I didn't even know you existed until last year, but I love you a lot, Tolbert. You're the one I've found out about the most and... you seem amazing.

"There's been nights I can't sleep at all n I find myself wishin' you were there so I could talk to ya. I don't know how t' describe how I feel. Like... like there's some kind of bond or somethin' that used t' be between us. From what I've heard from Daddy n ev'ryone else, we were close when you were alive. But I was only three months old when ya died, so I don't really think we can count it as close, ya know?

"But... but anyways, I love you. I love you a lot, Tolbert. And I really wish I coulda met you."

And with that, Bud stood and walked out of the cemetery.


	20. Red in the Sky (Modern AU)

**_June 2016_**

"Whatcha doin', kid?"

Bud gasped sharply, his head jerking up, seeing Jim standing there.

"How'd you find me?" Bud demanded. He knew that no one had seen him sneak out of the house and up to the mill. There was no possible way they could have.

"Lucky guess," Jim shrugged nonchalantly. "It ain't every day I hear somethin' rustlin' behind the lumber."

"Whatcha lookin' for me for anyways? I've done all my chores, there ain't no need t' tell Poppy nothin'!"

"Easy, honey, _easy. _I never said I was gonna tell Poppy anythin'. Tolbert's been lookin' for ya n he can't find ya."

"O-oh," Bud whispered, tugging at the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

"What're ya so scared of Poppy for?"

"No reason. Sorry I was s' hateful. I'm just real tired, Jim. I ain't slept for five days."

"Why not?"

"Can't sleep. I toss n turn all night long. Then — then there's always someone tryin' t' get downstairs in the dark n they make all this commotion and — I just can't sleep, Jim!"

"Hey, hey, easy, baby. It's okay. You can stay with me a few days. Catch up on sleep an' _relax. _Go get ya some clothes n whatever else ya wanna take with ya. I'll tell Mama n Poppy that yer gonna stay with me a few days, a'ight?"

"A'ight."

—

Bud bit down on his lip, tugging at the sleeve of his long-sleeved shirt. He knew he could trust Jim; Jim wouldn't get mad and go to Ran'l like Tolbert would. That was why Bud tried so hard to hide it. He was almost certain that Jim suspected something was going on, but he wasn't entirely sure.

After thinking on it for a few moments, Bud stood and changed into a pair of basketball shorts before making his way down the hall to Jim's room.

"Jim? You're a police officer, ain't ya?"

"Kinda why I'm wearin' this," Jim responded, pulling on his shoe. "You know I'm a police officer, Bud. Why're ya askin' that?"

"I'm s'pposed t' talk t' you when I need help, right?"

Jim's brows furrowed as he looked over at Bud. _When he needed help? _Jim had his suspicions that there was something going on with Bud, that he was trying so desperately hard to hide something from him and everyone else, but he had no solid proof or even a solid reason for his suspicions.

"What do ya need help with, baby?" Jim queried, tying the laces on his shoe.

"I... I can't tell Tolbert. He'd get mad n go to him, and he swore he'd kill me if I ever told anybody. _Please _don't say anything."

"Bud, you're startin' t' scare me. _What's goin' on?_" Glancing at Bud again, he saw he was wearing a pair of shorts. Bruises were littered across his legs, causing Jim to bite his lip before asking, "Where'd you get them bruises?"

Bud didn't say anything. He looked down at the floor before grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head, removing it to reveal a plethora of bruises on his torso.

"Oh my God."

"My back's worse," he mumbled. "Got a lot of gashes from Poppy's belt on my back. I can't really reach 'em t' bandage 'em, so... so they really ain't had nothin' done to 'em. Nothin' 'cept water runnin' over 'em when I shower. That hurts real bad."

"_Oh my God._"

Jim got up and approached him, letting his fingers trace Bud's face.

"Nothin' on your face?"

"W-well, there is. Y' jus' can't see it 'cause I covered it with makeup."

"Makeup?" Jim blinked. "Where on earth did you get makeup?"

"I buy it."

"You buy it?"

"Yeah... When Tol takes me t' Walmart or Dollar General or whatever. He don't know what I buy though. It's just foundation, concealer, and the powder stuff."

"Oh. Go wash your face. I wanna see what's on your face."

Bud nodded swiftly and left the room for a moment. He went to the bathroom and washed his face, gently patting his face dry with a towel and humming in displeasure at the pain.

He went back to Jim's room, revealing his bruised nose and blackened eye, the bruises on his cheeks and his forehead, and the finger marks on his neck.

"Oh my God, honey, why didn't ya tell me sooner?"

"I was s' scared, Jim," Bud burst into a sob, hanging his head low. "I — I've wanted t' tell ya all week, wanted t' tell ya ev'rythin'. But I couldn't do it without him knowin'. I never even thought t' come here n tell ya. He — he right near strangled me t' death, Jim, I swear he did! He knocked me out the other night. I swear he did, Jim, he knocked me out! He — he threw me n I hit the coffee table. I got a cut where my hairline is t' prove it. That's how I've been hidin' it."

"With your hair?" Jim asked to be sure.

"Uh-huh," he nodded in confirmation. "I wouldn't've told ya, but he nearly killed me, Jim!"

"A'ight, here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna make sure none of them wounds are infected, bandage 'em up properly, then I'm gonna let ya decide what ya want t' do. You can live here if you want. Tolbert won't know why if ya want it that way, but I'd really like it if ya'd get it t' where we can arrest him for what he's done to ya."

"Ya want t' arrest Poppy?" Bud asked softly.

"I want t' keep ya safe," Jim sighed. "If I have t' arrest every dagon person in this county t' keep you safe, I'd do it. I want you _safe, _Bud. I don't want t' hear that ya nearly died again."

"'M sorry," he said swiftly. "I didn't — I didn't even think that ya might not wanna hear it, Jim, honest I didn't."

"Nonono, honey, that's not what I meant," Jim rushed, cupping Bud's face with his hands. "What I meant is I don't wanna make this a regular thing; you tellin' me that Poppy right near beat ya t' death."

"Oh. So... so y' don't care that I told ya?"

"No, honey, I don't — I'm glad ya told me. And I'm proud of ya for tellin' me. I know how hard it musta been for you t' make that decision. I know how intimidating Poppy can be when he's threatening ya. I'm so proud of you. Let's make sure none of them wounds are infected now."

Bud bit down on his lip and turned around, allowing Jim to see the lacerations on his back.

"I... I don't think they're that bad... but they still kinda hurt. They're only three days old."

"_Three days?_" Jim repeated incredulously. "Geez, kiddo, how d'ya stand that?"

"Ain't the first time he's ever took his belt to me like that. Prolly won't be the last if he has anythin' t' say about it."

"Where's the cut from the coffee table?"

Bud pulled his hair up and held it against his head, revealing the nasty cut on the back of his neck that ran along his hairline.

"That one still hurts a lot too," he murmured. "I can't see it though, so I honestly don't know how bad it is."

"That's a pretty nasty cut, baby. You gonna let me clean it?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Just... sit down on my bed. I'll be right back."

"Mkay. Thank you."

"Think nothin' of it, honey."

—

Bud went straight to Jim that night once he got home.

"I... I didn't tell you, but... uhm, this ain't been somethin' that started not too long ago."

"You know I suspected somethin', right?" Jim quirked a brow. Bud nodded mutely. "How long did ya know that?"

"I kinda figured ya did for a while."

"Oh yeah? What gave it away?"

"Ya watch me a lot at home. I notice a lot of things. I... uh, I observe things, I guess you could say. Didn't really start doin' that 'til Poppy started hittin' me. Now I watch people. I've noticed a lot about Cal n Pharmer n Tol."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"So, when'd all this start, huh? When did Pa start hittin' ya?" Jim inquired.

"Uhm... 'round the time Tolbert moved out. That's been what, eight years? Yeah... yeah, 'round eight years. He hit me the night before Tolbert moved out. He was gone with you when he did it and Poppy said it'd be a lot worse if I told you or anybody else."

"Oh, honey," Jim muttered sympathetically. He gently wrapped his arms around Bud and kissed his temple. "How 'bout we change those bandages, hm? Let's go."

"Mkay."

Bud followed Jim upstairs, going to his own room and laying on his stomach. He folded his arms under the pillow, waiting for Jim.

Jim entered the room, sitting on the edge of the bed and sighing deeply.

"Ya know this is gonna hurt, right?"

"I figure," Bud nodded slightly. "Just rip it off, Jim. Rip it off and get it over with."

"A'ight, baby. Just... hold your breath."

Bud drew in a sharp breath, biting his lip. He winced when Jim removed one of the bandages, letting out a deep breath as tears welled in his eyes.

"Oh, that hurt a lot more than I thought it would," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry, baby. Take a breath, we're gonna rip this one off, okay?"

"Not yet, Jim, please."

"If we get 'em all off, I'll leave it alone for a few minutes. Just let me get 'em off first, okay?"

"Okay," he conceded. "Even the one on my neck?"

"Even the one on your neck," Jim confirmed. "We'll clean 'em off and I'll leave ya alone for a few minutes. I need t' change outta this dang uniform. Had t' chase some idiot on foot through the dagon woods, so I'm a sweaty mess."

"Ew," Bud grumbled. "Don't touch me if you're a sweaty mess."

"Oh, it ain't that bad. My shirt's just sweaty."

"Do not — _OW! _Ya coulda told me you were gonna do that, ya idiot!" Bud lashed out.

"Sorry, Buddy," Jim sighed. "I'll try not t' hurt ya."

"I didn't mean t' get so hateful. I'm sorry, Jim."

"You're okay. Tell me when I hurt ya. I don't wanna hurt ya, honey."

"Okay... it jus' really hurts, Jim," he murmured shakily, closing his eyes and shifting slightly.

"I know it does, darlin'. Ya ready? I can rip it off like a bandaid if ya want me to. Or I can be careful and try my darndest not t' hurt ya."

"Can ya be careful with this one? That last one hurt a lot."

"Yeah, Buddy. We're gonna do whatever you want when it comes t' this. Well, we'll do anythin' ya want so long as it won't make this any worse."

"Mm... I honestly don't think we can make it any worse," Bud remarked, earning a laugh from Jim.

"Oh, you can make it _a lot _worse. 'Specially if ya let it get infected. Then ya got a lot of problems that ya don't wanna deal with that involve doctors and hospitals."

Bud hummed, flinching when Jim started to pull the bandage off of his back.

"Oh my God," he muffled into his pillow. "That hurts so bad."

"I know it does, baby. I can knock ya out if ya want me to," Jim offered jokingly, earning an unamused look from Bud. "Just kiddin', Bud. But I do have medicine that'll help ya sleep."

"Why d'ya have that?"

"I get insomnia every now n then. It's a pain."

Jim tossed the three bandages he'd removed in the trash, then grabbed a cloth and gently cleaned the exposed wounds.

"I understand that. I don't sleep much when I'm home. Tol always thinks I'm sick when I go stay with him 'cause I sleep the whole time I'm there. I'm too scared t' tell him that it's 'cause he makes me feel safe. I know he won't let anythin' happen. Poppy ain't dumb enough t' try somethin' with Tol there."

"'Cause Poppy knows he'd have a heck of a fight on his hands. And that Tolbert would be so mad, he'd win it without much trouble at all. Bert's a strong boy. When he gets really mad like that, he don't know how t' control his strength. He could really hurt somebody if he wanted to. Heck, Bert could hurt somebody without even realizin' he did it."

"I know. I don't wanna tell him 'cause I'm scared he'll do somethin' irrational."

"Like what?"

"Whatever pops in his head first. I'm scared he might kill him, Jim."

"Bert might get mad n say somethin', might hit him if he gets mad enough, but he wouldn't kill him."

Bud bit down on his lip.

"Think I should tell 'im?"

"That's up t' you, kiddo. Why don't ya think on it a few days, hm? Give yerself some time t' think it over an' if ya wanna tell Tolbert, tell him. It's alright if ya don't want t' tell him. You don't have t' tell Tolbert everything."

"I know, but... he helps me. Once he calms down, he helps me so much. He talks t' me, he _listens. _He—he helps me. I depend on him," Bud admitted, biting down on his lip. "Maybe I shouldn't, I don't know, but I do. I love Tolbert more than anyone else, ya know? Nothin' 'gainst you or anything, but... it's _diff'rent _wit' Tol, ya know? We've always been close and I love him more than anyone and anything."

"'Cause he's your favorite," Jim smiled softly. "There ain't nothin' wrong with that, honey. I don't take offense when ya say ya love Tolbert more than anyone else — I know you do. I know how much you depend on him; and I know how much he depends on you."

"And — and I know I can trust him! But I'm _scared, _Jim!"

"There ain't nothin' wrong with bein' scared. You tell Tolbert what you want t' tell Tolbert. I'm not gonna force you t' tell him anythin', alright?"

"Alright."

"An' until you decide what ya wanna do, stay here with me. That way I know you're safe."

"Okay, Jim. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

—

Bud took a deep breath before unlocking the front door to Tolbert's house, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

"Tolbert?" he raised his voice, hoping that his older brother hadn't gone up in the woods.

"Yeah, baby?" Tolbert shouted from his room.

Bud hurriedly made his way to Tolbert's room, swallowing thickly as he entered it, spotting Tolbert putting his clothes back in his dresser.

"I need t' talk t' you. Jim already knows and... and I thought about it for a few days, and I really wanna tell you too because I trust you an' really, _really _need ya 'cause ya always know what t' do."

Tolbert turned and looked at him, his eyes widening at his baby brother's appearance. He knew Bud didn't have those bruises two days ago.

"What in the world happened to you?"

"Poppy beat me again," he blurted, his hazel eyes shining with tears.

"_Again?_"

"He right near killed me this time, Tol. I was s' scared I just... I told Jim after he took me t' his place this time. He's been doin' it for eight years now — started the night 'fore ya moved out. You was gone when he hit me n he told me I'd regret it if I said a word t' you or Jim or anybody. And it's just gotten worse n worse. I was real scared t' tell ya, Tol. I still am. But I want ya t' know 'cause I trust you and ya always know what t' do."

Tolbert blinked, trying to process everything he'd been told. Ran'l was abusing Bud. Ran'l had started abusing Bud the second Tolbert was gone. It made his blood boil.

"I'm glad ya told me, baby. Maybe we can get somethin' done if that's what ya want. Okay?"

"Okay. Jim said I can live with him 'til I figure out what I wanna do. I jus' don't wanna bother nobody, Tol."

"Hey, ya don't bother us. Ya can move in with either one of us. We won't let anythin' happen to ya, baby, I promise."

"I'm scared. I'm really scared," Bud whispered.

"I know you are. Ya have ev'ry right t' be. But there ain't nothin' gonna happen t' you."

"Poppy swore he'd kill me n nobody'd ever find my body if I ever told anyone. I... I forgot t' tell Jim 'bout him sayin' nobody would ever find my body."

"Hey, nothin' is gonna happen t' you. I won't let it."

"Okay. I'm sorry I never told ya, honest I am. I was just scared, Tol."

"I know. But Poppy can't do anythin' t' you 'cause you're gonna stay right here. Got that?"

"Yeah... what're y' gonna do?"

"Don't worry about it."

—

"What the heck is wrong with you?!" Tolbert demanded, pinning Ran'l against the wall.

"What are you talkin' about?" Ran'l sighed tiredly.

"Don't ya give me that dagon bull! Ya know _exactly _what I'm talkin' about."

"I really don't, son."

Tolbert huffed in annoyance.

"What is wrong with you? How d'you sleep at night, huh? I wouldn't be able t' live with myself if I did what you've done for eight dagon years."

"Tolbert, I don't know what you're talkin' about," Ran'l ground out.

"I'm talkin' about Bud, Poppy!" Tolbert exclaimed.

"Bud?" He quirked a brow. "What about Bud?"

"You know darn well what it's about. Stop actin' like you don't. How would ya like it if someone nearly killed you, huh? Someone that ya've looked up to yer whole life n love unconditionally just _grabbing you by the throat _and nearly killin' ya? I hate you. I hate ya for what ya did t' him!"

"Ya can't prove that I did anything, Tolbert."

Tolbert didn't think; he punched Ran'l as hard as he could. Ran'l grunted and covered his nose with his hand, staring at his second-eldest son with wide eyes.

"I _will_ find a way t' get you arrested for this. I promise ya that much, Poppy," Tolbert growled before stalking out of the shed, leaving Ran'l alone.

—

Jim sighed as he pulled into Tolbert's driveway, shutting off the engine. He got out and hurried to the front door, knocking on the door.

Tolbert opened it, his eyes scanning Jim's frame.

"Oh, thank God you're off duty," he muttered, stepping out of Jim's way.

"What the heck were you thinkin'?" Jim asked through gritted teeth, smacking the side of Tolbert's head. "He can get you for assault!"

"I don't care!" Tolbert shouted. He sighed heavily and licked his lips, closing the door. "He got a taste of his own dagon medicine. He — he sat there an' acted like he didn't know what I was talkin' about, then smirked an' said I couldn't prove anything. I don't care _what _he says, Jim. I want him in jail, Jim. I want him away from Bud."

"Does Bud know what you did?"

"No. I ain't told him yet. He's sleepin' an' I ain't gonna bother him while he's sleepin'."

"Oh. Okay. So we're not gonna tell him that you punched Poppy so hard ya broke his nose?"

"You're lucky I stopped there, a'ight?"

"Talk him int' filing a report against Poppy. I'll let you sit in there with him while he talks to me. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And tell him ya broke Poppy's nose, Tolbert. Ya weren't s'pposed t' do that!"

"Ya wa'n't there, a'ight? Ya didn't see the way he acted about it. He told _my_ _baby brother _that he'd kill him an' that no one would ever find his body if he ever told anybody that he was beatin' him. I hate him. I hate him, Jim!"

"Hey, calm down. Calm down, baby. I know ya hate him. I knew the second Bud told you what was goin' on that you would hate him. But we're gonna let Bud make his own decisions with this, okay? He's gonna be the one t' d'cide what goes down an' what doesn't.

"We're not gonna force him t' do anything, we're not gonna _tell him _he has t' do anything. We're gonna let him think about it n decide for himself, got that? Maybe encourage him t' get a restraining order or at the very least _move out, _but we let him make his own decisions. Okay?"

"Okay."

—

Bud shuffled into the kitchen that evening, a button-up hanging loosely on his frame.

"Hey, kiddo," Tolbert waved at him from where he sat at the table.

"Who'd you hit?" Bud mumbled groggily, making his way over to him. He grabbed Tolbert's hand, his thumb running over Tolbert's busted and bruised knuckles.

"Uh... I'm not sure you wanna know the answer t' that question."

"Who did you hit?" Bud repeated.

"I hit Poppy, a'ight?" Tolbert gave in, not wanting to let it get to where he would lose his temper. "I broke his nose."

"Tol, why'd ya do that?" Bud's voice dropped to a soft whisper.

"He was actin' like what he did t' you was absolutely nothing. I got mad and punched him. Just... don't go home for a while, a'ight? Gimme time t' figure somethin' out."

"I thought I wasn't goin' home for a while anyways," Bud murmured, his brows furrowed. "Not 'til I decide what I want t' do or whatever."

"Right, baby, right. I've been thinkin' a lot 'bout what happened and it's just... ev'rythin's a mess, Bud. I made it worse for you if ya decide t' go home and — and Poppy can press charges against me for assault. If he does that, I can't be here t' keep you safe. Because he's got the proof that I did it. _I broke his nose._"

"It'll be fine. Poppy ain't gonna do nothin' t' you. He loves you. He don't love me."

Tolbert sighed and pulled the chair out beside him.

"Sit down. Tell me ev'rything. I promise this time that if I get mad, I won't go talk t' Poppy. We'll just sit here n talk ev'rything out."

"Alright."

—

**_July 2016_**

"I don't wanna live here."

"Why not? You're safe here, I keep you safe! What else could ya want?" Tolbert asked exasperatedly. "I'm doin' this for you, I'm doin' _all of this _for you, Bud! When are ya gonna see that, huh? When are ya gonna see that all of these crazy precautions that's been goin' on the last few weeks is for you?!"

"I wanna go home, Tolbert," he whispered tearfully, trying to force them back. "I miss Mama n Pharmer n Cal. I wanna see them. I'm tired of bein' told I can't go anywhere but here, Jim's place, an' school. I don't want t' live like that, Tol. I want t' at least feel like I'm free t' make my own choices."

"I don't want you t' get hurt."

"I don't care! I'm used t' gettin' hurt, don't ya understand that?! I'm used to it! I wanna see Pharmer n Cal n Mama! They have _nothing _t' do with what's goin' on, don't ya understand that, Tolbert?! I wanna see them! I'm tired of you and Jim trying t' control my dagon life!"

"That's not what's going on," Tolbert denied, shaking his head. "I'm so scared t' let ya go back, baby. He threatened you. I don't wanna give him a chance t' go through with that threat, Buddy."

"Then go with me!" Bud countered, raising his voice as tears spilled onto his face. "I wanna see Mama n Cal n Pharmer! I miss 'em s' much."

"Alright, alright, we'll go over there t'morrow, I promise. I mean, ya probably want some of your stuff anyways. I'm not gonna let ya get hurt, Bud. We understandin' each other?"

"Yeah, Tol," he nodded swiftly. "I understand. Just... don't let it get t' where he can get me by myself, right?"

"Right. I don't trust him. Or we can go there, let you get yer stuff n visit Mama, an' talk the boys int' comin' here for the night. I doubt you'd be on edge if ya got them t' come here n stay for a day or two."

"Ya wouldn't care?" Bud asked softly.

"Why would I care? You're in the process of making a very difficult decision. You're gonna wanna see yer brothers, Bud. There ain't nothin' wrong with that, honey. All ya had t' do was say somethin'. Not let it get t' the point that ya walk int' my room in the middle of the night and say, "I don't wanna live here". All ya have t' do is talk t' me when ya wanna do somethin'. I can't take ya anywhere if ya don't tell me ya wanna go somewhere."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just... uh, I just didn't wanna bother ya none."

"Ya don't bother me. Ya won't ever bother me. Talk to me anytime ya want, even if ya have t' wake me up t' do it. I want t' help you."

Bud bit down on his lip and glanced at Tolbert, his brow furrowed.

"You care if I stay in here t'night?"

"Not at all. C'mon."

Bud laid down beside Tolbert, turning onto his side and curling up against him, his head placed on Tolbert's chest with his arms wrapped around Tolbert's middle. Tolbert tenderly wrapped his arm around Bud, being careful not to touch Bud's back. The last thing Tolbert wanted to do was accidentally hurt him.

"I'm sorry. I don't want t' be alone," Bud murmured.

"That's okay. I don't mind ya stayin' in here. Ya can sleep in here anytime ya want, ya don't have t' ask. I love you."

"I love ya too."

"Get some sleep, baby. We'll go see Mama in the mornin'."

"A'ight. Thank you."

—

Bud closed the door to Tolbert's pickup truck, hurrying to the front door. He opened it and hurried to the kitchen, knowing that was where he would find his mother.

"_Mama!_"

He wrapped his arms around her in an embrace, laying his head on her shoulder.

"Hey, baby," Sally giggled, kissing his temple. "You finally comin' home?"

"N-no, I'm just here t' get a few things n t' see if Pharmer n Cal wanna stay at Tol's place t'night."

"You mind if I ask why ya won't come home?"

Bud looked up and caught sight of Ran'l at the office. He swallowed thickly. He shook his head, trying to think of something he could tell his mother.

"Um... it's nothin', Mama. I just wanna stay with Jim n Tol right now. I promise."

"Yer really gonna lie t' me?" Sally quirked a brow.

"I can't tell ya, Mama. I can't. I — I do wanna stay with them, I do!"

"Okay. Ya wanna stay with them. _Why _d'ya wanna stay with them? Ya ain't been home in almost a month, Bud. Don't ya think ya should come home for a night?"

"Can't. I promised Tol I'd stay at his place t'night n Jim I'd stay with him t'morrow. My life's a mess right now, Mama. Please give me time t' figure it out."

Sally gazed at him for a moment, observing him. There was something that was bothering her son, that much she was certain of. And whatever it was, he was determined to hide it.

"Okay, baby. But how 'bout ya come home one day next week, hm? I miss ya."

"I will, Mama. I promise."

—

Bud groaned as he rolled onto his side, letting out a pained breath. He'd been caught off-guard by Ran'l and was now sprawled in the living room floor, bloodied and bruised. He knew that Ran'l wasn't done; he'd said that he would be back later before leaving him. Bud regretted coming back home.

Pain coursed through his body, causing him to make a quiet noise in the back of his throat, his face pinching. He knew that he had to get up; that he had to at least make it upstairs to his room, but Bud wasn't even sure he could move.

"Bud? Bud, are you — _oh my God!_" Pharmer exclaimed, rushing over and dropping to his knees beside him. "Are ya alright?!"

"Not really," Bud mumbled. "Can ya... can ya help me up? I need t' get upstairs 'fore he comes back, Pharmer."

"I'll take ya upstairs. C'mon, arm around me."

Bud slung his arm around Pharmer's neck, letting him lift him up and carry him up the stairs. Bud sucked in a sharp breath as Pharmer laid him on the bed, humming in displeasure.

"I'll — I'll call someone," Pharmer rushed.

"Jus' call Tol. Tell 'im it happened again. He'll know what ya mean."

"Who the heck did that t' ya, Bud?"

"Don't worry 'bout it. I'm okay."

"You're _not _okay."

"It's not the first time it's happened, Pharmer. It's just been a while."

"That's why ya ain't been home," Pharmer realized, his eyes widening slightly. "Ya ain't been comin' home 'cause someone's been abusin' you. Have you even told anybody? Does Jim know—"

"Jim was the first one t' find out. Then I told Tolbert an' Tolbert broke Poppy's nose for it. They're lettin' me make my own decision with it; like when it comes t' the report n such? They're lettin' me decide that. I just... haven't made my mind up yet."

"Whaddaya mean ya ain't made your mind up yet?" Pharmer hissed. "He's _abusing you. _Get him arrested so you can come back home!"

"It's not that simple," Bud countered softly. "It's really not simple at all. I'm tryin' t' think over every possibility, tryin' t' d'cide if it's worth it. I just... can't make a decision yet."

"I'm gonna call Tolbert now. Don't you move."

"Didn't plan on it."

—

Tolbert entered Bud's room, sighing heavily as he closed the door.

"What happened, Bud?"

"He caught me in the livin' room by myself," Bud mumbled. "Beat me again. It really hurts."

"Want me t' call Jim?"

"Nah. Just... take me back t' your place, please," Bud whispered pleadingly. "I don't wanna stay here anymore. I'm scared I might do somethin' if I do."

"What do ya mean by that, baby?" Tolbert queried, sitting on the edge of the bed and combing his fingers through Bud's hair.

"I want t' die. Seems that the only time I really want t' die is when I'm here. When I'm with you n Jim, I don't. Reckon I'm happy with y'all, I don't know. I jus' wanna die, Tol."

Silent tears slipped down Bud's face, him licking his lips and trying to force his tears back.

"Oh, honey," Tolbert breathed. "It's — it's alright. Come on, let's get outta here. We'll getcha back t' my place n clean yer wounds, make sure there ain't nothin' serious. And we'll talk. We'll talk about anything and everything, let ya get ev'rythin' off your chest. Maybe talkin' will help with it."

"Maybe," Bud muttered in agreement. He sat up, slowly getting up and releasing a shaky breath. "Can you... help me get all my writing stuff? I don't wanna leave it here."

"Yeah, baby, whatever you want. Ya want anything else?"

"Not right now."

"Alright. Gimme a minute."

—

"So, did ya ever plan on tellin' me you were suicidal?" Tolbert asked rather bluntly. He figured the best way to ask a question like that was to just say it.

"Yeah. I don't understand why it's so diff'rent here, Tol. I feel safe, I feel — I feel like I actually have some worth. I don't feel like I've shamed the whole fam'ly or shamed Poppy's name when I'm here. It's only when I'm home. When I'm around Poppy."

"Ya ain't shamed nobody. Sometimes I think Poppy's lost his head. You're a good kid, there's no need t' make ya feel like that. Ain't no need t' lay a hand on ya with the intent t' harm you. He makes me so mad sometimes. Just... the things he does t' you. I don't understand why he's like that toward you. You're his youngest son and his namesake; I always thought you'd end up bein' his fav'rite."

"I've never been his fav'rite. I don't think he's ever loved me, Tol. If he ever did, I don't remember it."

Tolbert hummed, cleaning the blood off of Bud's back.

"He opened those dagon wounds again," he grumbled to himself.

"I know. I tried t' stop him, Tol, honest I did. I tried rollin' over so he couldn't hit my back. He jus' grabbed my arm and basically just lifted me off of the floor enough that I couldn't get away an' he beat me that way. I didn't fight. I never do."

"I know. And that's okay. If ya fought back, it'd probably be a lot worse than what it is. I'm proud of ya for bein' able t' put up with that as long as ya have, baby. Ya've proven you're a strong boy."

"I don't feel strong. I feel weak. Like... like I coulda stopped it or somethin' if I wanted to, an' I never did. I feel weak an' stupid an—an' worthless. I'm worthless."

"You are anythin' but worthless," Tolbert murmured, ripping a bandage open. "I don't really know how I feel about you thinkin' that."

"Tol, what happens if I d'cide t' press charges?" Bud asked suddenly, catching Tolbert off-guard.

"Well... we'd have t' go t' Pikeville, let ya talk t' Jim. He'd record a conversation with ya that's him askin' questions and you answerin' honestly and as detailed as possible. There'd be a warrant put out for his arrest, they'd arrest him, then he'd have t' sit in jail until his trial if he don't make bail or no one posts his bail. And when he's found guilty, he'd have t' serve his sentence."

"But there's always the chance he's found not guilty," Bud argued softly.

"With the way you look — which I need to get photos of — I highly doubt he'd get by with it."

"If he has Perry as his lawyer—"

"Just trust me, Bud. We'll get someone better than Perry, someone who knows the law inside and out. An' I believe I know jus' the man for it."

"Who?"

"Anderson Hatfield."

—

Bud clenched his hands under the table, biting down on his lip as Jim entered the room, trying to give him a reassuring smile.

"Hey, baby. The way I'm gonna put in this report is that you called me and wanted to talk to me about all this, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'm just gonna record the conversation, no big deal, right?"

"Right."

"Take a breath, calm down. We're talkin' at my place. You know I won't let anythin' happen to ya, baby."

"I'm scared."

"I know you are. But we're gonna get this done n we're gonna make sure you're safe, Bud. Even if I have t' get Anse Hatfield over here b'fore the dang trial so he can take you across the river for a little while."

"I don't wanna go across the river!"

"I — I know, but it could take me a while t' get all this done, honey. If I have t' send you int' West Virginia t' keep you safe, I'm going to. Anse knows I wouldn't ever call him an' ask somethin' like that unless it was a really serious problem that I can't control. And I'm not gonna let ya get hurt, Bud."

"So I jus' have t' talk t' you?"

"Yes."

Jim set his phone on the table and quirked a brow. He gave a slight nod, watching Bud lower his head.

"How do I do this?" he asked softly.

"Just... start from the beginning and go from there."

"Poppy... abuses me." The word left a bitter taste in Bud's mouth. He'd never described it that way when he talked about it; Tolbert, Jim, and Pharmer had used the word to describe it, but Bud had never said it was abuse.

"He abuses you?" Jim repeated, keeping his voice soft and gentle.

"Uh-huh. He's done it for eight years."

"What happened when it started? The first time he hit you."

"Uhm... it was the night before Tolbert moved out. I can't remember the exact day, but I was seven at the time. Tolbert was gone with you, y'all had gone t' Pikeville, I think, an' Poppy got mad at me over somethin'. I can't remember what he got mad at me over, but I remember that he slapped me. And when he slapped me, he told me that it would be worse if I told you or Tol that he'd hit me."

"That's all that happened?"

"That time, yeah."

"Alright... how about the one that made ya d'cide t' talk t' me?"

"He was mad at me. I don't know why he was mad; he never gives a reason anymore. He just finds me, gets me away from ev'rybody n beats me. W-well, this time, he grabbed me by my neck. He almost killed me. Tolbert's got the pictures t' prove it... I told him about it n he promised me he'd let me make my own decision when it came to pressing charges or whatever. And he did.

"But... Poppy threw me into the coffee table, then it goes fuzzy and black until I wake up by myself in the livin' room — that's where we were that time — and I remember thinkin' that I needed t' tell someone. So I thought of you and Tolbert."

"How often does he beat you?"

"When I'm home, it's every day. But... I really ain't been home much the last month. He beat me yesterday 'cause I thought I'd be okay if I went home for a night. I jus' wanted t' see Mama."

"There's nothin' wrong with wantin' t' see Mama. Right now... right now, we've got t' make sure you're safe. If ya wanna see Mama, have Tolbert go with ya. Or heck, Bud, I'll go with ya. Don't go by yourself."

Bud nodded mutely to show he was listening.

"Keep talkin' to me, Buddy. Tell me what happened."

"He caught me in the livin' room by myself. I don't think anyone else was downstairs, that's why they didn't hear me. I was screamin', beggin' him t' stop. I was all bloody n bruised when he did stop, an' he said that he'd be back. Pharmer found me n took me upstairs, called Tolbert for me. I went home with Tolbert after gettin' all of my writin' stuff outta there. Tolbert cleaned me up n talked to me; told me he'd tell you I want t' press charges or whatever."

"Okay... What all does Tolbert know?"

"He knows everything. From the first time Poppy hit me, to him threatenin' t' kill me n sayin' that no one'll find my body, to the last time he beat me. Tol knows _everything. _I've — I've told him ev'rythin' over the course of the last month or so. I had to. Tol helps me, he helps me cope. He listens t' me n he talks t' me, an' he always finds a way t' help me with whatever it is I'm dealin' with. But he lets me make my own decisions and he doesn't force me t' do anything, won't even say a word to another person 'cause he knows it'd make me clam up and never tell him anything again."

"That right?"

"Mhm."

"He promised you he wouldn't say anything about this until you made up your mind, right?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. That's fine, Buddy, it really is."

"He explained everything to me, answered every question I had. He even talked over every possibility with me. Tolbert helps me, he really does, Jim. Poppy's never liked that I'm real close t' Tolbert. Tolbert takes up for me."

"He gets mad over that?"

"All the time. He gets mad at Tol 'cause Tol will have somethin' planned with me. Y'know, like we go t' the movies or we go t' Pikeville or South Williamson for a while, or we go out ridin'. Poppy don't like Tol spendin' time with me. He gets mad at him 'cause of it n it makes me feel so bad."

"Why d'you feel bad? It's not your fault."

"'Cause if it wa'n't for me, Poppy n Tol wouldn't have any problem with each other. It's jus' 'cause of me that they don't get along," he answered quietly. "Tol don't even get 'round Poppy no more. He just... stays with me. Heck, Jim, he quit his job at the mill. He's workin' in Pikeville now."

"Tolbert quit his job?" Jim blinked. Tolbert had failed to mention that.

"Mhm," Bud nodded. "Said he wasn't gonna work for no child abuser. He found a good payin' job in Pikeville n he quit. He didn't even care, either. Said Poppy got mad as Devil at him, but he ignored him n left. He ain't even answered Poppy's calls lately. I know he ain't. He declines 'em every time he calls him."

"What all does he tell you?"

"He told me not t' talk t' Poppy anymore. Told me that someone that's treated me the way Poppy has doesn't love me. He talks to me about this when I want him to... he tries t' help me understand it. He spent a lot of time tryin' t' convince me t' do this a lot sooner."

"He didn't tell you he could get in trouble for withholding information from the police?"

"No," Bud muttered, his eyes widening slightly. "He's gon' get in trouble?"

"No. I'm not gonna let him get in trouble because he helped you realize how important it is for ya t' make your own decisions when it comes t' somethin' like this. He's helping you. Tolbert's not gonna get in any trouble. Where's he at now?"

"Pikeville," he answered without hesitation. "He's workin'."

"Alright. Thank you for tellin' me."

Bud only nodded. He wasn't sure he could say anything else.

—

Bud bit down on his lip as he followed Ellison up the stairs and into the guest room, trying to quell the anxiety that rose in his chest.

"This is your room. I'm right across the hall if ya need anything. Cotton Top has the room right down the hall an' the one across from it is the bathroom. Ya do know that you'll be goin' t' school with Cotton n Cap, right?"

"I do now," Bud squeaked.

"We gotcha in all of Cap's classes. We're not gonna give him a chance t' get t' you, okay? One of us is always gonna be near ya."

"I didn't know they planned on makin' me stay here that long," Bud murmured quietly.

"It's just in case, y'know? They're takin' precautions. You'll stay here until the trial starts, whenever that may be. It's gonna take a while t' get the warrant and get him arrested, arraigned, and a date set for trial."

"Oh. I'm not allowed in Kentucky?"

"Not on your own."

"Okay. Thank you, I reckon."

"Think nothin' of it, kid."

—

**_September 2016_**

Bud licked his lips as he followed Cap through the hallway, clutching his book tightly to his chest.

"What's Daddy doin' here?" Cap mumbled, stopping in the middle of the hall. Bud didn't notice and bumped into him, grunting.

"Huh?" He lifted his head, seeing Anse at the entrance of the school. "Oh. Never mind. I dunno, Cap."

"Mm. Reckon we're about t' find out, huh?"

"Reckon so."

Bud fell into pace beside Cap, hanging his head and watching as he put one foot in front of the other. He flinched when Anse grabbed the sleeve of his sweatshirt, pulling him toward him unintentionally.

"I need t' talk t' you a minute, kiddo."

Bud shot Cap a wary look before stepping off to the side, his hazel eyes flicking up and meeting Anse's blue ones.

"Listen, kid, I've got the suspicion that there's somethin' goin' on in the courts over there, but I can't prove it. They postponed the arraignment again. We've got it set for two weeks from today now," Anse informed him.

"The arraignment...? Again?"

"Yeah. I don't know what's goin' on, Bud. But I promise you, no matter what they do, no harm is gonna come to you while you're stayin' with us. Tolbert n Jim are as mad as Devil 'cause they keep postponing this, an' they know yer father got that snake Perry Cline for his lawyer. He has a way of bribing the judges."

"So... so there's a chance they won't even do anythin' t' him?"

"'Fraid so," Anse sighed. "But I promise, Bud, I'm gonna do my best t' make sure he goes t' prison. And I can promise that you're always gonna be safe on this side of the river."

"Thanks," Bud whispered. "That all ya need?"

"Yeah. Go on t' class. I'll see ya later, alright?"

"A'ight."

—

Bud glanced around before sneaking down the hall to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and rustling around in it. He snatched a bottle of sleeping pills, closing the cabinet as quietly as he could before going back to his room and closing the door.

He knew that Ellison was downstairs working on dinner, so he had nothing to worry about when it came to being interrupted. He also knew that he had to text three people before he did it — Jim, Tolbert, and Ellison.

So Bud loosened the lid and placed the bottle on the nightstand before grabbing his phone, creating a group with Jim, Tolbert, and Ellison.

_Hey. _  
_Just want to say I'm really sorry. Y'all didn't do anything to cause this. I'm sorry. _  
_I love you._

He shut off his phone and grabbed the bottle, dumping some pills into his hand. What did he have to lose?

—

Ellison glanced at his phone as it went off, seeing the three texts Bud had sent merely seconds before. His heart skipped a beat as he grabbed it off the counter and raced toward the staircase, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach.

"Bud! Bud, answer me!" Ellison yelled, taking the stairs two at a time. "_Bud!_"

He shoved the door open, finding Bud lying on his bed, one arm draped over his torso with the other stretched out by his side. Ellison rushed over, finding the empty pill bottle on the floor and swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Hey, hey, hey, come on, wake up, kiddo," Ellison pleaded, swiftly dialing 911. "Ya gotta wake up, kid. Come on."

—

Tolbert had never been so frightened in his life. He was almost certain he'd broken at least ten traffic laws on the way to Logan, but he didn't care. _Bud was dying._

He got there and rushed to the elevator, hitting the button for the fifth floor. Ellison had told him that he was still in the waiting room, waiting to hear something on Bud's condition.

Tolbert should have known that it would eventually be too much for Bud to handle. He should have known better than to send Bud across the river, even if it was for his safety.

_Tolbert should have known better._

Reaching the fifth floor, Tolbert rushed to the waiting room, where Ellison was sitting. He had Anse and Wall on his left, Elias sitting across from him while the seat to his right was empty.

"Ellison?"

"Tolbert. C'mere," Ellison beckoned him over. Tolbert hesitantly walked over and sat down, hanging his head and sniffing. "We haven't heard anything yet. He took the sleepin' pills I have out of the medicine cabinet n overdosed on 'em. The only thing I can't figure out is _why._"

"'Cause he's got it in his head that all this will be fixed if he kills himself," Tolbert whispered. "He overthinks. He's got terr'ble anxiety and he overthinks every little thing. I shoulda known better than t' send him 'cross the river. I shoulda known he was gonna do somethin' like this."

"Hey, it ain't your fault. Ya sent him over here with his best interests at heart."

"Lotta good that did. He could be dyin'."

Tolbert would take the blame if Bud died. It had been his idea to send him to live with the Hatfields until everything calmed down on the Kentucky side of the river, so it was his fault, in a way.

Tolbert stared at the floor, his eyes welling with tears. He hated not knowing what was going on with Bud. He hated that his baby brother had thought that suicide was the answer to whatever was going on with him. He hated that he hadn't caught on that something was wrong.

"Ellison."

Tolbert's head jerked up, seeing Doc Rutherford. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Bud was in good hands when it was Doc. Doc had offices in both West Virginia and Kentucky, and had Bud as one of his patients. The fact that it was Doc caring for Bud made Tolbert feel a little better.

"Hey, kid," Elias spoke up, drawing Tolbert's attention to him. "Don't beat yourself up."

"Yeah, well... ya don't know Bud the way I do. I talked to him, I shoulda noticed somethin'."

"Bud's good at hidin' things," Anse spoke up. "Don't be too hard on yourself."

Tolbert fell silent, nodding to acknowledge that he'd heard Anse. Ellison returned then, sitting down beside Tolbert with a sigh.

"He's gonna be alright. He's just got t' sleep it off. You can go back if ya want, Tolbert."

"Thanks."

—

Tolbert had to go home that evening. It was done with reluctance, but he'd done it anyway with the promise that Ellison would call him if anything changed.

"Ellison... is he okay?" Jim asked cautiously, knowing that he couldn't talk long. He was on duty and he doubted his supervisor would care about the reason for his personal phone call.

"He'll be fine. Just gotta give him time t' sleep it off. I already promised Tolbert I'd call him if anything changed. I'll call you too."

"A'ight. Thanks."

"Yer welcome."

Ellison hung up and glanced up, finding that Bud was awake, blinking.

"Hey, Buddy."

"Elli?" he croaked, wincing at the sound of his voice. "Wha' 'appened, Elli?"

"You overdosed on some sleepin' pills ya found in the medicine cabinet. Do ya remember why ya did that?" Ellison asked softly, grasping Bud's hand.

Bud was silent for a moment.

"It's not worth it," he whispered, his eyes focusing on his hand entwined with Ellison's. "I made this mess. I can fix it, too. Ya shoulda let me die, Elli. I coulda fixed all this mess."

"Ya ain't gonna fix anything by killin' yourself, Bud. Ya have Jim n Tolbert worried t' death. Tolbert was here, but he had t' leave. Jim didn't get the chance 'cause he's on duty right now."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Just... talk to me, hm?"

"Okay."

—

Bud was allowed to go home two days later. He went to his room, Ellison behind him. Ellison closed the door, watching Bud crawl on his bed and curl up under the covers.

"So... uh, we need t' talk 'bout somethin'."

"The fact that I just made everything worse?" Bud lifted his head and tilted it.

"Ya didn't make anything worse. And that's not what it's about either. Ya do know that I am your legal guardian at the moment, right?"

"Mhm. What 'bout it?" Bud let his head fall back down on the pillow.

"That means Doc talks to me about everything right now. Like you were diagnosed with depression when you were twelve and you're supposed t' be takin' somethin' called Symbyax. How come ya never mentioned that?"

Bud's brows furrowed. Depression? He'd never been diagnosed with depression, had he? He took in a sharp breath as his eyes widened and lips parted.

_Right, _he had been diagnosed with depression. It was the last time that Ran'l had taken him to the doctor. Bud had been diagnosed and given a prescription of Symbyax, which they picked up and took home. Ran'l had gotten Bud in his room and berated him, swearing that Bud was faking and he'd gotten so good at pretending that he'd managed to convince Doc that something was wrong with him. Ran'l had thrown the medicine in the trash and had told Bud that he didn't need it.

"I forgot about it," Bud mumbled after a moment. He'd gotten so used to being sad and irritated all the time that he'd forgotten he'd been diagnosed with depression.

"_You forgot about it?!_" Ellison gawked, not sure he believed him.

"Yeah. I was diagnosed when I was twelve. Poppy said I was faking, that I was pretendin' and had managed t' fool Doc int' thinkin' I really had somethin' wrong with me. He threw the medicine away and I... got used t' livin' that way. Y'know, bein' sad n irritated all the time. After a while, I stopped bein' irritated. Because every time I was irritated, Poppy beat me. And I learned t' stop bein' irritated. I got used to it and I literally forgot about it, Elli."

Ellison's heart broke for him. He couldn't imagine ever telling Cotton Top that he was faking something and keeping his medicine from him. He couldn't imagine anyone doing that to their children.

"But I'm sorry. If I'd remembered, I woulda told ya, Elli, honest I would've."

"I know," Ellison assured him, sitting on the edge of the bed. Ellison's phone went off, causing him to pull it out of his pocket and glance at it. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Mkay."

Bud waited until Ellison was gone to roll over to where his back faced the door, pulling the covers over his shoulder. He wasn't sure where Ellison had gone, but he didn't really care either. Bud wanted to sleep.

He heard the door open again and grimaced. It was his luck that he would get comfortable right before he came back.

Bud grunted as the bed dipped behind him, listening to whoever it was turn on their side. Bud hummed when they started to rub his back, knowing instantly who it was.

"Hey, Tolbert."

"Hey, baby," Tolbert greeted. "How ya doin'?"

"Not too good," he answered honestly.

"Ya wanna talk about it?"

"Not sure that'll help, Tol."

"Well, ya won't know 'til ya try," Tolbert countered, listening to Bud hum while he continued to massage his back.

"I caused a lot of trouble by tellin' you n Jim what was goin' on. I thought I could fix ev'rythin' too. But Elli found me n ruined it."

"Bud... what you did... that woulda made me n Jim fight even harder t' get him locked up if you'd died. 'Cause even if ya wasn't here, we wanna see him suffer for what he did t' you. I really hope he suffers, Bud."

"Y'know... I'd forgotten all 'bout bein' diagnosed with depression," Bud remarked, causing Tolbert's brows to furrow.

"What? Ain't you been takin' your medicine?"

"I never took my medicine."

Tolbert blinked. That was the first time he'd heard that.

"And why not?" he inquired.

"Poppy took it from me. Said I was fakin' an' pretendin'. He threw it in the garbage. Purdy sure it got t' the point he threw it away 'fore he got home. I completely forgot I'd been diagnosed with it, Tol. I've gotten s' used t' livin' this way that I didn't even think anythin' was wrong with me."

"Ya coulda told me he—"

"No, I couldn't've. I told him I was gonna n he said I wasn't, 'cause he'd make sure I regretted it if I ever did. Said he could make somethin' bad happen to me n make it seem like an accident. I didn't wanna find out what he had in mind, so I kept my mouth shut."

Tolbert hummed. He should've known Ran'l had threatened Bud. Ran'l knew exactly how to get to Bud to make him stay quiet.

"Well, we'll get it n let ya start takin' it. It'll help ya once ya get used to it."

"Whatcha mean?"

"It'll take a little while for ya t' get used to it. Ya know, like it is with any medicine. Ya've gotta get used to it before it helps. You'll see what I mean."

"I'm sorry for what I did," Bud murmured tearfully. "I don't know what I was thinkin'. I'm sorry."

"C'mere."

Bud turned over and scooted as close as he could to Tolbert, burying his face in his chest as a sob escaped. He threw his arms around Tolbert's middle, clenching the fabric of Tolbert's t-shirt in his hands.

"'M sorry, 'm s' sorry," he sniffled.

"Hey, it's okay," Tolbert cooed, gently scratching Bud's scalp. "It's okay, baby. Ya scared me real good, but it's okay. It's okay 'cause you're okay. That's what's important, Buddy — that you're okay. I love you so much, baby."

"I love you too. I love ya more than anyone else."

"Why?" Tolbert queried, wrapping his free arm around Bud.

"'Cause you're my fav'rite person," Bud answered without hesitation. "Ya listen t' me n ya help me as much as ya possibly can, even when ya don't know a dagon thing about whatever it is I need help with. I look up ta you. I always have. Ya've never made me feel like I can't do somethin' 'cause I'm younger than you are, an' ya've never made me feel stupid either.

"I just... really love you. You've always been there for me, always took up for me. And I don't know how t' say what I want t' say, so I hope that if I keep talkin' long 'nough, it'll come out the way I want it to. I depend on ya, I admire ya, an' I love ya more than anyone else in this world. You're the best older brother I coulda asked for."

"Well, geez, honey, I was jus' teasin' ya when I asked that," Tolbert laughed breathlessly. "But thank you for makin' me cry. Like I didn't do enough of that the last three days."

"I didn't mean t' make ya cry! 'M sorry!"

"Nonono, it's a good thing this time," Tolbert rushed to assure him. "Happy tears are a thing too, ya know. I'm glad they're happy tears this time, kiddo. Ya scared me right real good the other day. I'm sorry I couldn't see ya while you were in the hospital."

"It's okay. I understand." Bud lifted his head and kissed Tolbert's cheek before lying down again, nuzzling against the crook of Tolbert's neck. "I love ya, Tol."

"I love ya too, Buddy."

—

Bud had fallen asleep. Tolbert didn't mind staying where he was, holding his baby brother in his arms. It assured him that Bud was alright.

He bit down on his lip before calling Jim.

"Bert? Ev'rythin' alright?"

"Fine, Jim. It's just... I have an idea."

"What kind of idea?"

"One I'll prolly regret," Tolbert admitted. "I know we can't bring him back 'cross the river right now. It'd be too dangerous if Poppy gets out. I'm gonna buy a house on this side of the river."

"Tolbert," Jim breathed.

"I'm not gonna stay away from him anymore. If it means I live in West Virginia, I live in West Virginia."

"Tolbert, what about your job in Pikeville? What're ya gonna do about that?"

"I'm — I'll find one on this side of the river. Or I can drive t' Pikeville every day. It's not that far. I have t' do this, Jim. I need him."

"Okay. You... you do what you think's best. I'm not gonna tell ya what t' do. You're a grown man. I just don't know if movin' t' West Virginia is gonna be a good investment for you or not."

"Reckon we'll find out, huh?" Tolbert chuckled. "Help me find a place, will ya? Just... send me some websites or somethin'. I feel like I have t' be the one takin' care of him, Jim. It's just this feelin' that I can't get rid of. It's hard t' explain it."

"That's okay. I'll help ya find a place. Heck, I'll help ya find a job on that side of the river. We don't need t' give Poppy the chance t' find him while you're at work in _Pikeville. _That's what, a little over a half-hour away?"

"Somethin' like that, yeah."

"We really don't need t' give him that chance, Bert. It would take ya a while t' get home if he needs you."

"Alright. Thank you, Jim."

"You're welcome. And hey, tell him I'll be by t' see him t'morrow. It's my day off."

"I will. I'm sure he'll enjoy that."

"Think so? I'm not his favorite," Jim teased, causing Tolbert to scoff and roll his eyes.

"Yeah, I found out who his fav'rite is t'day. Kinda worries me. I mean, I-I'd never intentionally hurt him, but I know how I am when I get t' where I can't control my temper. He made me cry," Tolbert confessed, laughing a little.

"He tell ya what he thought of ya?" Jim's voice took a knowing tone to it.

"Mhm," he hummed, looking down at Bud. He smiled softly and played with Bud's unruly curls, watching the boy stir in his sleep.

"Have you told him?" Jim asked suddenly.

Tolbert's heart skipped a beat.

"No."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. I don't — I don't think me tellin' him that he kept me from killin' myself is gonna help anybody," Tolbert lowered his voice a little. "I mean... I was seventeen, Jim. I was stupid."

"Tol, somethin' drove ya t' the point that ya thought killin' yourself was the best thing. Ya might not wanna admit that, but ya need t' admit that it wasn't stupid. Your feelings ain't stupid. They never have been n they never will be."

Tolbert's throat constricted.

"Yeah, well, it didn't do me any good t' try t' talk t' Mama n Poppy 'bout it. That got me sent off t' live with you until I _got better_," Tolbert scoffed, drawling the last two words sarcastically. "Did more harm than good that way."

"I know they did. Ya still won't tell me what made ya think that doin' that woulda been the best thing."

"Not like it matters anymore. It's been nine years."

"Ya still think about it," Jim stated. "I know when ya think about suicide, Tolbert."

Tolbert released a deep, shaky breath.

"Do ya?" he forced out before his throat closed up.

"Of course, I do," Jim said it as though it was obvious.

"I just think about it ev'ry now n then," Tolbert said swiftly. "Ain't ever gon' do nothin'."

"Yer only alive because of Bud McCoy, Tolbert. You were gonna do somethin'."

Tolbert was silent for a few seconds.

"Yeah, well, I didn't."

"Ya didn't because Bud walked in that dagon room b'fore you could do somethin' t' yourself."

"I know that," Tolbert's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "I know why I'm here. I'm thankful for him. He don't know how much he means t' me."

"Then tell him," Jim spoke softly. "Tell him how much he means to ya. Show him that you understand, Tolbert. He's more likely t' talk t' you when he gets that way if ya show him ya understand exactly how he feels."

"I don't wanna tell him that I nearly—"

"Tol? Y' here?" Bud mumbled groggily, rolling onto his back.

"Yeah, baby, I'm here," Tolbert answered. "Hey, Jim, I'll call you back."

"Alright. I love you, Tol."

"Love you too."

Tolbert hung up and glanced at Bud, who was stretching his arms above his head, causing his t-shirt to come up a little.

"Sleep well?" Tolbert chuckled, brushing Bud's honey-brown hair out of his eyes. Bud hummed and nodded.

"Who y' talkin' to?"

"Jim. He's goin' t' come see ya t'morrow. It's his day off."

"Okay. That wasn't what you were talkin' about though," Bud pointed out, shooting Tolbert a knowing look.

"No. Don't worry 'bout what we were talkin' 'bout. It wa'n't nothin' important."

"A'ight. Thank you for stayin'. I love you."

"I love you too."

—

"Whaddaya mean they let him go?!" Tolbert exclaimed.

"I know, Tolbert, I'm not happy about it," Anse remarked. "Just... don't let him back into Kentucky."

"God, Anse, how am I s'pposed t' do that? I promised him he could come over for a night!"

"Then keep him with you. Don't give him a chance t' get to him. Perry Cline's up t' somethin', but I have no idea what it is. I still don't know how he managed to get an arraignment pushed off as long as he did."

"A'ight. Ya told him yet?"

"Not yet. I figured he might take it better if you told him."

"Alright. I'll tell him."

—

**_November 2016_**

Tolbert licked his lips and let out a breath as he parked in Ellison's driveway, swallowing the lump in his throat before getting out of the car. He hadn't told Bud that he was moving out of Ellison's house — he hadn't even told Bud that he was moving out of Kentucky.

He'd worked with Ellison and Anse while Bud was at school to get all of his things in Tolbert's new house, and they'd succeeded with that. Tolbert had somehow managed to get everything put in Bud's room and had still beat him back to Ellison's home.

"I'm honestly surprised ya didn't do this sooner," Ellison remarked as Tolbert entered the house.

"Really?" Tolbert looked up at him, brows furrowing.

"Mhm. It didn't really shock me when ya told me about this idea of yours."

Tolbert smirked and hung his head, biting his lip before he allowed his eyes to flick up and meet Ellison's.

"I just... feel like I have t' be the one t' do this. He's my brother, an' I'm the one that encouraged him t' press charges. It's my r'sponsibility t' take care of him."

"Hate t' say it, Tolbert, but you're more of a father t' that boy than ol' Randall is."

"I know," he muttered quietly. "'S a shame. Bud don't remember when Poppy loved him more than anythin' in this world... he was a baby then. I don't know what happened to 'im. Bud got a little older, showed us how quirky he is, an' it's like Poppy just... stopped lovin' him all at once."

"Quirky?" Ellison raised a brow with an amused smirk.

"Would you prefer I say weird? I'm tryin' t' be nice about it, Ellison, and you're makin' it hard by pickin' at my word choice."

Ellison snorted, patting Tolbert's shoulder.

"I was startin' t' wonder if ya ever insulted him," he quipped.

"Of course, I do," Tolbert chortled. "I just don't do it very often. Bud's got enough goin' on without me pickin' on him."

"Ya say that like ya understand it."

"I wouldn't say that. I don't think I can ever understand how he feels."

"You can try, though."

"Yeah... Reckon you're right."

Tolbert's eyes flicked to the door when it opened, Bud stepping inside and closing it behind him. He turned around and stopped, his eyes flicking between Ellison and Tolbert.

"Did I do somethin'?" he asked timidly.

"Nah. C'mon, we're headin' out," Tolbert gently smacked his arm as he walked by him.

"Where to?"

"Home."

"_Home?_" Bud repeated, bewildered as he gazed at Tolbert. "But I live here."

"Not anymore."

"I'm goin' back t' Kentucky? But I thought—"

"You're not goin' t' Kentucky until you absolutely have to."

"Then where am I goin'?" Bud demanded.

"Home with me. I'll explain it all in the car, a'ight?"

"A'ight."

—

"Explain."

Bud looked at Tolbert expectantly, watching his older brother sigh heavily.

"I've been tryin' t' figure out a way t' tell you. I moved out of Kentucky."

"You did _what?_"

"I live over in Logan now. So do you. I moved so ya could stay with me again."

"Ya bought a house in Logan jus' so I can live with ya?" Bud questioned, his voice soft. "Why?"

"I feel like I have to," he answered with a shrug. "I don't know how many times they'll postpone this one, how long they're gonna drag it out. I'm not gonna let them dictate my life by forcin' me t' fear for your safety on the Kentucky side of the river, so I moved t' West Virginia so I can be with ya. I feel like I have t' take care of you. Not — not that you're a baby or anythin' like that, but I jus' feel like I gotta take care of ya. Make sure you're safe n happy n healthy."

"I know what ya mean. And thanks, I guess. It's nice t' know somebody wants me."

"I'll always want you. I love ya too much, darlin'. I have no doubt that I love you too much."

Bud giggled.

"I love you too. And maybe I love ya too much, I don't know. I don't know what I'll do if I ever lose you."

"Ya won't ever lose me," Tolbert promised, grasping Bud's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "No matter how mad I may get at you, or how mad you may get at me, you'll never lose me. I'll always have your back, Buddy."

—

It was late in the evening when Tolbert started to look for Bud. He knew that he was somewhere in the house — it was just the question of _where._

He stepped inside Bud's room, finding him on his side, curled up and sleeping soundly. He had one arm stretched out, his hand holding his pillow while the other was securely tucked against his bare chest. His lips were slightly parted, his expression peaceful. It had been a long while since Tolbert had seen him look that way.

He crossed the room, covering Bud with the scarlet duvet. Bud jerked awake, his hand wrapping around Tolbert's wrist as his eyes shot open.

"Relax, baby, it's me," he assured him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. He hummed and scooted back.

"Stay?" Bud requested, his hazel eyes pleading with Tolbert.

"Sure, baby," Tolbert smiled softly. "I'll stay."

Tolbert laid down and allowed him to curl up beside him, placing his head on Tolbert's chest. He hummed in contentment, throwing an arm over Tolbert's torso.

"Love ya," he murmured groggily.

"Love ya too," Tolbert smiled in amusement. "Get some sleep, honey."

Bud drifted off to sleep, leaving Tolbert amused.

"Hey, Bert? You here?" Jim rounded the corner, stopping when he saw them and breathing a laugh. "Whatcha doin'?"

"He asked me t' stay. So I did."

"Oh. Did ya tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

Jim shot him a look.

"_Oh! _No, I ain't told him. Why would I tell him somethin' like that?"

"T' show ya understand n trust him?" Jim shrugged carelessly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Trust has nothin' t' do with this," Tolbert sighed tiredly. "I just don't want my baby brother knowin' I nearly killed myself."

"Maybe ya need to."

"And maybe I don't. Some things are better kept secret, Jim."

"An' some are better made known," Jim countered. "Ya make it hard for me t' help you, ya know that?"

"I'm your younger brother, Jim. I ain't s'pposed t' make yer life easy," Tolbert remarked, earning an unamused look from Jim.

"Whatever," he grumbled. "I still think you should tell him."

"And I still think I shouldn't. He's got enough goin' on without him thinkin' I'm gonna do somethin' like that again."

"He ain't gonna—"

"Yes, he would. Ya know as well as I do that he would. Bud stresses about things when ya tell him things like that."

"Ya think he wouldn't want t' know why there's days ya talk to him a lot more than usual? He knows when somethin's wrong with ya, Tolbert."

Tolbert hummed.

"He's observant. He's told me a few things. Like there's days ya talk to him nonstop, then there's times ya won't say more than three words to him. He knows when you're overwhelmed or stressed or upset — ya pull at your shirt when ya are. He knows when you're tryin' yer darndest not t' lose your temper, too. Said that's when ya mostly stay in your room."

"An' how does he notice all of that?"

"He watches people. He said he didn't start doin' that 'til Poppy started hittin' him. Ask him some of the things he's noticed 'bout Cal n Pharmer. Some of 'em's funny."

Tolbert breathed a laugh and shook his head, pulling his fingers through Bud's thick locks of hair.

"Ya think he'll ever get over this?" Tolbert queried, his eyes meeting Jim's.

"No," Jim shook his head. "I think he's been traumatized, Tolbert. You never get over that. Even if Poppy changes — which I seriously doubt — Bud will always be cautious around him. Heck, he might not even get around him. And I wouldn't blame him for it. Poppy did the damage to him... If he ever changes and wants t' get around Bud again, he'll have t' pay the cost, whatever it may be."

"I hate him for what he did," Tolbert whispered hoarsely. "I hate him, Jim. I've never hated anyone this much. Not even—never mind."

"Not even what?"

"Ain't important. Forget I said anything. You... you heard they postponed it?"

"Already?"

"Yeah. It was s'pposed t' start next Monday, but they've already changed the date t' January. Said they're gonna wait 'til after the holidays."

"Good grief," Jim mumbled. "Don't they think..."

"Anse tried t' fight it. It was shot down. So we go t' court January fifth."

"God," Jim laughed humorlessly. "And what about the boy that they're tormentin' by doin' that?"

"They don't care."

"True. I reckon we've just gotta help him until the trial's over with."

"We're gonna be helpin' him after that too."

"Yeah... I hate that it happened to him."

"Me too. I don't know what t' do... how t' help him, I mean. Reckon I can just do my best."

"That's all that we can do, Bert."

—

**_December 2016_**

Bud sighed as he sat down on the step, turning so his back was against the post. Missy — his hound dog — plopped down beside him, placing her head on his lap. Bud gently scratched her head and glanced toward the road, shaking his head.

He wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten himself into this predicament. All he knew was that the door shouldn't have been locked and it was, and he had closed the door when he went out to feed Missy and Tolbert's hound dog.

What made it worse was that he'd left his phone inside on the kitchen table. He had no way to contact Tolbert, as he'd bought a house that was on a secluded backroad. It was the only house on the road.

Bud closed his eyes and shook his head. Sometimes he was stupid. He wasn't sure why the door was locked — it had been unlocked when he opened it. Maybe he'd done it without thinking since he was so tired, he honestly didn't know. He didn't _remember _locking the door, but it didn't mean that he didn't do it himself. Bud was so exhausted that was starting to nod off.

He forced his eyes open and drew in a deep breath, the cold air burning his lungs. He couldn't sleep. Not after the last time. He didn't want to have dreams about Tolbert and Jim hurting him.

"Bud? What the heck are ya doin'?" Tolbert asked, startling him.

"Waitin' on you. I uhm, I locked myself out. I don't — I don't know if I accidentally hit the lock or what, but I locked myself out."

Tolbert crouched down in front of him, cupping Bud's face in his hands while his eyes scanned his baby brother's face. It wasn't like Bud to stumble over his words like that when he was just talking to him. He stumbled over his words when he talked about his feelings and when he talked about Ran'l, but he _never _stumbled over his words when he was talking to Tolbert about something stupid that he'd done.

"God, baby, when was the last time you slept?" Tolbert breathed, taking in Bud's exhausted appearance.

"I dunno," he mumbled. "Maybe — maybe around a week? I don't know, I just can't sleep. I don't want t' sleep."

"Bud, honey, ya can't do that t' yerself. Why in the world ain't ya sleepin'?"

"I keep havin' these terr'ble dreams, Tol," he confessed, averting his gaze. "I don't wanna sleep if that's all 'm gonna see."

"You have t' sleep, Bud. Talk to me when you have those. Ya have been takin' your medicine, right?"

"I don't need medicine," Bud snapped.

"You have PTSD and severe anxiety n depression. Ya need your medicine. It won't help all the time, it won't make it go away, but it'll help with it."

"I know. I just... don't like it."

"I know ya don't. No one really does, honey. But it helps you, Bud, it really does. You've improved so much in the last three months. Ya may not realize that, but _my God _have you improved. I've seen it. And unless somethin' goes terribly wrong durin' that trial, I believe you're gonna keep improvin'."

Bud bit down on his lip, his eyes flicking up and meeting Tolbert's.

"Think so?" he whispered softly.

"What, that you've improved?" Bud nodded slightly. "Yeah, baby. I know that you've improved."

Bud let Tolbert pull him to his feet and lead him to the door. Tolbert unlocked it and pushed it open, allowing Bud to go in first.

"Tol... was I bad before?" Bud inquired as Tolbert wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"No," he responded without hesitation. "You just... didn't have what ya need. Once ya got adjusted t' takin' your medicine, ya became so much better, baby. Yer not as depressed as ya used t' be. I never said anythin' before 'cause I didn't wanna hurt yer feelin's. I always thought ya were takin' your medicine, so I never said anything to ya about it. Ya've gotten better. Yer better at controllin' that temper of yours, too."

They entered Bud's room, Tolbert hitting the light switch before leading Bud to his bed.

"Really? I didn't think it was that bad."

"Well, it wasn't bad. It was just... I know you better than anyone else n I know that ya don't lose your temper over things that ya lost yer temper over when ya didn't take your medicine. It wasn't like ya at all. Yer level-headed, Bud. And sometimes... well, sometimes ya weren't. Some days it was real easy t' make you mad n you'll still have days like that, but ya won't have 'em nearly as much, baby."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Why don't ya lay down n get some sleep now, hm?" Tolbert pulled his fingers through Bud's hair, watching the boy's eyes flutter shut. "And if ya have a bad dream, tell me. We'll talk about it until you feel better. Or we don't have t' talk 'bout it at all n I'll just hug ya or whatever ya want me t' do. Heck, honey, ya can sleep with me when ya have those dreams if ya want. I don't care. Whatever helps you."

"Okay," he agreed, nodding ever so slightly.

"Want me t' wake ya up for supper?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Don't mention it, baby." Tolbert kissed his temple. "Get some sleep."

—

Tolbert sighed as someone knocked on the side door, grumbling to himself as he shuffled to the door and unlocked it. He pulled it open, finding Jim, and stepped out of his way.

"And how may I help you?" Tolbert drawled, going back to the stove.

"I just got back from visitin' Mama n Poppy. They want me t' invite you t' Christmas dinner."

Tolbert blinked before staring at the stovetop, biting down on his lip. He leaned against the counter, folding his arms tightly over his chest. If he went to dinner with them, that meant he would have to leave Bud with the Hatfields. But it gave Tolbert a chance to tell Ran'l exactly what he thought of him.

"Let me see if Anse is willin' t' have Bud at his place."

"You're goin'?" Jim blinked.

"Jim, I promised you I wouldn't show up and say anything. I never said anything about if he was stupid enough t' invite me."

"Tolbert, don't start a fight," Jim sighed tiredly.

"It ain't gonna be no fight," Tolbert promised. "I'm just gonna tell him what I think of him."

"That's what worries me."

—

A week before Christmas, Bud came home and found a Christmas tree in the living room with presents underneath it. His brows furrowed. He had been certain that they wouldn't do Christmas this year, so he hadn't even bothered to get anyone anything.

His heart sunk. Tolbert had obviously planned to do Christmas anyway, no matter what was going on and had already gotten everything he needed for it. Bud hadn't known that, had assumed that it was canceled, and now he had himself in a mess of trouble again.

"Hey! No peekin'," Tolbert teased, playfully smacking the back of Bud's head.

"Don't touch me!" Bud all but screeched, smacking Tolbert's hand away. "I hate you!"

Bud shoved him against the doorframe before storming out, going to his room and slamming the door.

Tolbert was frozen in shock. He wasn't sure what he'd done, or what had gotten Bud in such a mood, but he knew that Bud wasn't lying. Bud had looked him straight in the eye when he said it.

He released a shaky breath as he walked to his room, closing the door behind him. He grabbed his phone and sat on the edge of the bed, releasing a shaky sigh as he dialed Jim's number. He swallowed past the lump that had formed in his throat when he realized Jim wasn't going to answer.

"H-hey, uhm, listen, I wanna say I'm sorry. I just can't anymore, Jim, I can't," he burst into a sob, his hand clamping over his mouth as he tried to regain his composure. "I can't — I can't do anythin' right. I don't know what I did t' make him hate me too, Jim. Please—please take care of him for me. Tell him I love him n it wasn't his fault. I love you. I love you so much."

He hung up. He bit his lip as he contemplated calling Bud, knowing that no matter what, Bud wouldn't answer his phone. So he decided to do it.

He waited patiently for Bud's voicemail to pick up, using one hand to open the drawer to the nightstand and grab the bottle of pills that he kept nearby on the occasion he decided to do this. (It wasn't the first time Tolbert had contemplated suicide.)

"Hey, baby," he spoke softly. "Uh, listen to me, hear me out one last time, a'ight? I'm sorry."

Tolbert's throat constricted as unwanted tears rushed to his eyes, causing his vision to blur.

"I'm sorry for whatever I did t' make ya hate me. I'm sorry I wasn't the person ya needed. I'm sorry for everything I've ever done that's hurt you in some way. I don't — I don't know how else to say ev'rythin' I wanna say other than I'm sorry. I'm sorry for ev'rythin'.

"Look, I know — I know ya don't care none. I know Jim prolly don't care none either n he just puts up with me 'cause he feels like he has to, but I called him too. He's gonna take care of ya now. Y' can do whatever ya want with me, throw me in a hole for all I care.

"But—but I know you, and I know you'll end up blamin' yourself eventually. It's not your fault, baby, you have no idea how long I've wanted t' do this. I've — I've been tryin' since I was seventeen and every time, you always end up savin' me. Don't bother this time. I don't want t' be saved. I just want ya t' know I love ya more than anythin', Buddy. An' that I'm sorry for everythin' I've ever done to ya. I love you, baby."

—

Bud's gaze lifted when he heard someone run into the waiting room, seeing Anse and Ellison. The two men made their way over to him, Ellison crouching in front of him and grasping his biceps while Anse sat down beside him.

"Bud, honey, what happened?" Ellison queried, being sure to keep his voice soft.

"I told him I hate him. Oh _God, _it's my fault!" Bud burst into a heart-wrenching sob, letting Ellison pull him out of his chair and into a tight embrace. "I — I shoulda answered him when he called me. I shoulda known somethin' was wrong. He never does that when we're home. He—he knew I wouldn't answer, that's why he c-called me!"

"Hey, hey, _breathe. _Breathe. There ya go, Buddy. Have ya heard anything yet?"

Bud shook his head in response, drawing in a sharp breath before his chest collapsed with another sob.

"He — he could be dyin' n 's all my fault! I wish I woulda died!" Bud cried, covering his face with his hands.

"Now, none of that," Ellison chided gently. "None of us wanted you t' die. Just like none of us want Tolbert t' die. Where's Jim?"

"He's on his way here," Bud sniffled. "He was stuck in Pikeville when I talked to him a few minutes 'go."

"McCoy?"

Seeing that it was someone other than Doc Rutherford, Anse assured Bud that he would let him know what was going on before getting up and making his way over to the doctor.

Ellison stayed with Bud, simultaneously trying to comfort him and calm him down. Anse returned a moment later, bending down.

"You can go see him. Room 516. He's alright, Bud."

And for the first time in an hour, Bud breathed a sigh of relief.

—

Bud entered his brother's room cautiously, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could. Tolbert was staring blankly at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling at a steady pace.

He hesitantly crossed the room and sat down in the chair beside Tolbert's bed, Tolbert's eyes meeting his for a split second before fixating on the ceiling again.

"What're you doin' here?" Tolbert rasped.

"I know I prob'ly ain't the person ya wanna see, but ya really scared me, Tol," he forced out, his throat constricting.

Tolbert grunted and shifted slightly.

"What scared ya more, Bud? The idea of me dyin' or the idea that ya might be t' blame for it?"

"You dyin', ya moron! If that didn't scare me, I wouldn't be here! If I didn't care, I woulda let ya die!" Bud's anger flared. He tried to suppress it but to no avail.

"Mm. I don't think ya would. Ya wouldn't be able t' live with yerself if ya let me lay in that bedroom n die," Tolbert countered.

"I don't care about that. I care about you. I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for shovin' ya, too. I'm so sorry for everything, I really am! I love you. Ya scared me so bad."

"Bud, ya don't have t' lie. It's alright if ya hate me, baby. I'm used t' bein' hated."

"But I don't hate you!" Bud insisted. "I don't, I really don't! I love you. I love ya more than anyone else, Tol, honest I do!"

Tolbert's eyes scanned Bud's frame, noticing how tense the boy was.

"How long have you been here?"

"I dunno," he shrugged innocently. "However long you've been here."

"Oh, really? Why would ya do that?"

"I was real scared. I still am. I've — I've never been that scared," Bud sniffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

"I'm sorry. Never meant t' scare ya. I'm sorry it didn't work, baby," Tolbert's voice rose in pitch, his throat closing up as tears welled in his eyes.

"'M glad it didn't work. I just... I-I got overwhelmed an' I couldn't control it. I'm sorry. I swear, Tol, I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it at all."

Tolbert grasped Bud's hand, watching his breath hitch.

"It's alright if ya did mean it. If ya ever end up feelin' that way, it's okay. Know why? 'Cause you can't help how ya feel, baby. An' even if ya do end up hatin' me, Buddy, I'll always have your back. Okay?"

"Okay. Promise me ya won't do nothin' like that again," Bud murmured with a trembling voice.

Tolbert hesitated. How could he promise him something like that when he knew it wasn't going to be the last time it crossed his mind?

But he knew that he would never let it get that far again. He would never let it get to the point that he nearly died.

"I promise, darlin'."

Bud moved closer to the bed, pulling the chair up as close as he could and grasping Tolbert's hand again.

"'M not leavin'," he mumbled, rubbing Tolbert's hand with the pad of his thumb. "'M gon' stay right here."

"Ya can't do that, baby. They didn't let me stay when you did this... they won't let you either. Reckon you'll have t' stay with Jim or somebody for a couple days."

"I don't wanna stay wit' them. I wanna stay wit' you."

"I know, baby. An' I'm sorry ya can't. If it was up t' me, I'd let ya stay. But it ain't and I'm sorry that I did what I did. I've been tryin' t' do that since I was seventeen and now that I have... Part of me thinks it ain't worth it an' the other part of me thinks it was the right thing t' do."

Tolbert's face pinched in a troubled expression.

"I understand," Bud said so softly, Tolbert almost didn't hear him.

"Hm?" he hummed, wanting to make sure he'd heard him right.

"I understand," he repeated, speaking a little louder than before. "I understand exactly how ya feel."

"Oh, really?"

"Mhm."

"And why would you—"

"Bud, honey, I was told I have t' take ya home now," Jim spoke as he stepped inside the room. "You a'ight, Tolbert?"

"I will be. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I shoulda known that ya'd try somethin' sooner or later. I love you, ya know that, right?"

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded slightly. "I'm sorry, Jim, I really am. I love ya so much."

"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry none about it. I'll take care of Bud 'til ya get out of the hospital."

"Thank you. Maybe you should be the one taking care of him anyways. You're more stable than I am," Tolbert chuckled bitterly, tears spilling onto his face.

"None of that," Jim shot him a stern look. "Ya do just fine takin' care of him."

Bud didn't say anything. He stood and kissed Tolbert's cheek.

"I love you, baby," Tolbert murmured, smiling slightly.

"I love you too."

—

Bud looked over at Jim as he turned off on the road that led to Tolbert's house.

"What're we doin' here?"

"Stayin' here. T'morrow's my day off anyways and... well, I don't trust takin' you int' Kentucky right now," Jim forced a small smile as he glanced over at Bud.

"Can't blame ya for that. But I couldn't blame ya if ya took me there either," Bud murmured quietly, staring out the window. "I'd d'serve it."

"No, you don't. Tolbert said it wasn't your fault."

"And he's a liar!" Realizing that he'd raised his voice, he swallowed thickly before lowering it, "He did it 'cause of me."

"That's not what he said," Jim sighed. "He said it wasn't your fault. An' ya honestly don't know how many times I've talked him out of suicide, Bud. You ground him. He admits it t' me, but he won't t' anyone else. The days he talks t' you more than usual? He's suicidal. He has been since he was seventeen."

"Why didn't he tell me that?"

"I don't know. He didn't really talk to me much about it. I mentioned it to him after you overdosed and he said that he wasn't gonna tell ya. Then I mentioned it not too long ago n he said he'd think about it. I don't know why he didn't just tell ya that he understands. My God, this is the worst way possible for you t' find out about it."

"Mm. I didn't mean t' cause all this, Jim," Bud sniffled. "Honest."

"I know. But I doubt you caused it, Bud. Tolbert's not one that really expresses how he feels when it's somethin' other than happiness an' anger. He might've already planned on doin' that when ya did whatever it is that ya did."

"I told him I hate him. He was teasin' me n I told him I hate him, an' I shoved him 'gainst the doorframe. I heard him go in his room. Then he called me after a few minutes. I didn't answer it 'cause I'm a stupid idiot that didn't stop t' think somethin' might really be wrong. Tolbert never calls me when we're both home. He just screams at me. I shoulda known then n there somethin' wasn't right.

"But I was dumb, I didn't answer. Went in the room maybe... not even ten minutes later, and he was on the bed barely breathin'. I screamed. I screamed and then I called an ambulance. I didn't leave him. I stayed with him in case he did wake up. I slapped him, Jim, but he wouldn't wake up at all. He didn't even move."

Jim sighed as he shut off the engine to his truck, looking over at Bud.

"Come on, honey. Let's go inside."

—

Bud let out a shaky breath as he closed and locked the door, turning and carefully descending the few stairs on the porch. He walked out to the end of the road, where Ellison was waiting for him in his truck.

Bud climbed in, closing the door and buckling his seatbelt before glancing at Ellison.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"Can I ask why ya'd rather stay with me?" Ellison inquired, pulling out onto the highway.

"Uhm... I just don't wanna stay there right now. I want a few days t' myself, ya know? Like—like I wanna be able t' think things out. I don't wanna stay there."

"That's okay. I don't mind ya stayin' at my place. I'm glad ya called me, Buddy," Ellison gave him a small smile. "Does Jim know?"

"No. Please don't tell him," Bud pleaded. "Don't tell anybody. I don't wanna be bothered, Elli."

"Okay," Ellison agreed, "I won't tell no one. I promise."

—

Jim's heart raced as he threw the gearshift in park, getting out of his truck and rushing up to the front door. He knocked swiftly, impatiently waiting for someone to answer the door.

Anger surged through him when Ran'l opened the door. Jim acted irrationally and grabbed him by his collar, pulling him outside.

"Where is he?!" Jim demanded, his blue eyes ablaze with fury.

"Who?" Ran'l looked genuinely confused.

"Bud! _Where is he?_"

"I don't know. Last I heard he was livin' with Tolbert."

"Yeah, well, Tolbert tried t' kill himself last night, so he's in the hospital. Bud's ran off and I can't find him!"

"Then why are ya here? Ya should know this is the last place he'd come to."

"Because I've looked practically everywhere else and I can't find him, Poppy! If ya know where he is, ya better tell me, 'cause I _swear, _if I find out ya got him hidden somewhere in the mountains—"

"Jim, the last time I saw Bud was the day he left here with Tolbert. Before he pressed charges," Ran'l cut him off harshly. "Don't ya start makin' accusations like that."

"My baby brother is missing an' I can't find him anywhere," Jim stated shakily. "I know that you abused him for years. I know that ya threatened him. And _I know _that ya'd do anythin' t' get outta these dang charges he pressed against ya."

"I highly doubt kidnappin' my own son would help me any," Ran'l remarked dryly. "And he is _my son, _Jim."

"Yeah? Then why didn't you act like a father when you had the chance?" Jim spat, releasing him and shoving him away from him.

"Who are you t' say what a father is? You don't have any kids."

"I don't have t' have kids t' know what it means to be a good father, Poppy. Me n Tol have been the only people he's had t' look up to for years and we didn't even know it. I'm so sick of you actin' like what you did wasn't wrong!"

"God, you n Tolbert are full of it," Ran'l scoffed. "Ya encourage him t' misbehave. That's what yer doin' by lettin' him do this."

Jim laughed breathlessly, pulling his fingers through his dark brown hair.

"You really think that ya didn't do anything wrong? That what you did t' him was _discipline? _That's not discipline, Poppy. That's abuse. Discipline does _not _mean that you beat and choke a child until they're unconscious. He's told me everything that you did t' him and I can't even believe that you can still sleep at night. Who does that to their _child, _Poppy?"

"I can stand here n argue all day, Jim."

"Well, I can't. But I promise you, if I find out ya had anythin' t' do with this, you won't make it t' court."

—

Bud looked up as Ellison entered the living room, shooting him a look.

"What?"

"Jim's at the door. I couldn't lie to him, he's scared outta his wits. You wanna go talk to him outside or do ya want him t' come in here?"

"I'll go talk to him," Bud mumbled.

He got up and shuffled to the front door, stepping outside and closing it behind him. He watched the concern and fear melt off of Jim's face and morph into anger. Bud swallowed thickly. He knew Jim wouldn't be able to stop himself from getting angry this time.

"What. The. _Heck, _Bud?! Do you have any idea how scared I was?! I thought he'd kidnapped you or somethin'!"

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Are ya really sorry, Bud?! Or is it just your first response to everything now?"

"I..." Bud's voice got caught in his throat as he folded his arms tightly over his chest.

"I almost had a heart attack 'cause of you! I thought maybe ya'd gone t' the hospital since I didn't get up 'til goin' on ten this mornin', but I get there t' learn that Tolbert ain't seen ya since last night! Do you have _any idea _how scared I was, Bud?! I thought that ya'd gotten yourself hurt again! I thought that ya went back t' that dagon house and he nearly beat ya t' death again. Ya scared the life outta me, Bud! Do ya even care about the fact that ya've got us scared outta our wits?!"

"I—I—"

"My God, Bud, why in the world did ya run off like that?!" Jim demanded.

"I jus' couldn't stay there, Jim. I didn't mean t' scare ya, honest I didn't! I didn't — I didn't even think that ya might think that. I jus' wanted a few days t' myself, Jim, that's all I wanted."

Jim sighed heavily and grabbed Bud's wrist, pulling him forward. He wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace and kissed his temple, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Don't scare me like that," Jim murmured shakily. "_Tell me _when ya wanna run off t' Ellison's. Or at least leave a note or text me so I know you're okay. God, baby, ya really scared me."

"I'm sorry."

"I know. Just... don't do that t' me. I'm worried that he's gonna try somethin' before the trial and... oh God, baby, I didn't mean t' lose my temper with ya."

"It's a'ight," he rushed, shaking his head ever so slightly. "I wouldn't blame ya if ya beat me. He admittin' that it's my fault yet?"

"I told him what you said. That ya say it's your fault. He says that's not true, but that's as much as he said."

"Why won't he just admit it? I know it was my fault. It was my fault because I'm a stupid, worthless idiot that can't handle his own emotions."

"Bud, honey, you've been through somethin' that most people can't even imagine. I think yer doin' a wonderful job with handlin' your emotions. It's gonna take you a while 'cause yer _learning. _You're learning how t' properly control them and that's okay too. We know it's gonna take ya a while, Buddy. You feel how ya feel n ya can't stop that. Ya just ain't learned how t' control 'em yet, that's all."

"Tol tried killin' himself 'cause o' me. He hates me. I don't blame him, he has every right t' hate me. If I was him, I'd hate me. Ain't like I've ever been a help to him. I just keep bringin' trouble and problems, an—an' I dragged him into this mess of mine, and... I don't blame him if he hates me, Jim. Ain't ever gon' make him proud o' me. Ain't ever gon' be a good brother neither.

"When he gets out, he won't let me stay there anymore. I know he won't. Ya just... don't understand. I messed ev'rythin' up, Jim. Tol ain't ever gonna wanna get 'round me again."

Bud looked and sounded like he was on the verge of tears, causing Jim's heart to break for him.

"Bud, honey, I want ya t' listen to me, okay?" Jim grasped his shoulders, watching him nod mutely. "Tolbert has been struggling with this for years, baby. He's been contemplating suicide since he was seventeen. That's when he first attempted it and he didn't go through with it because of you.

"It happened again when he moved out. That was when ya stayed at his place the first time. And it just kept happening and happening, and I tried my best t' talk him int' tellin' Doc about it n he wouldn't 'cause he's as stubborn as a mule. I honestly don't think you had anything t' do with it. I think he's just snapped and he did the first thing he thought of once he did. Tolbert would never do anythin' t' hurt ya. And if he woulda thought it through, he never woulda done what he did."

"Poppy was right. I'm hard t' handle an' I ain't no good. I jus' make a lotta trouble n make ev'ryone's life harder."

"You do not. _You _are a wonderful boy, Bud McCoy. Tolbert loves you. He wants t' see ya, baby. Whaddaya say ya go grab your coat n we'll head on over t' the hospital, hm?"

"Okay. Let me tell Elli."

—

Tolbert was released the next day.

Jim had told him that Bud had opted to stay at Ellison's again the night before, causing Tolbert to sigh. He had no doubt that his baby brother was letting guilt eat him alive, and he knew that he was going to have to find a way to fix it. He couldn't let Bud blame himself for something he had no part in.

So when he arrived at Ellison's home and was told that Bud was upstairs in his room, Tolbert wasted no time in ascending the stairs. He found the door to be open and stepped into the doorway, rapping on the door with his knuckle.

"Tolbert? What — what're y' doin' here?" Bud stammered.

"Came t' getcha. We're goin' home."

"I don't wanna go back there."

"_Bud—_"

"Ya don't understand."

"I understand plenty. Now come on, we've gotta go. We'll talk about all this, a'ight?"

"A'ight," he whispered softly.

Bud pulled on his boots and his coat, swallowing thickly as he gathered his belongings. He really wasn't looking forward to the conversation that he would be having — it was one that he was trying to avoid at all costs.

Bud didn't want to hear him say that it had been his fault. Bud knew that it was his fault, but he didn't want to hear Tolbert admit it.

Reluctantly, Bud followed Tolbert downstairs. He had no doubt that it was going to be a long drive home.

—

Tolbert was the first to break the silence that had settled among them, his eyes flirting between Bud and the road.

"You gonna talk to me?"

"Nothin' t' talk 'bout," Bud grumbled, shifting ever so slightly.

"Oh, there is _plenty _t' talk about. Don't think Jim ain't told me what you said, Bud. The night it all happened when ya said that ya wouldn't blame him if he took ya back t' Kentucky. Ain't none of us doin' that. We want you _safe—_"

"I'm the reason you tried t' kill yourself," Bud cut him off harshly. "I don't care what happens anymore. 'M jus' done, Tol, 'm _done. _I don't wanna fight no more. Drop the dagon charges. I'll just stay on this side of the river, it ain't no big deal."

"Bud, you were _not _the reason why I did that. I want you _safe, _baby. If we drop the charges, how do we know he won't cross the river t' look for you, huh?"

"I don't care if he does. I'm so tired of fighting all the time," Bud confessed, a sob tearing from his throat. He clamped his hand over his mouth in an attempt to muffle it, but to no avail. "'M tired of fightin'. I don't wanna go t' court, Tol."

"I know, baby, but ya really need to," Tolbert sighed, hoping he could persuade him to leave everything the way it was. "If we can win, get him—"

"I don't care. I don't wanna fight n I don't wanna watch people fight. I don't wanna watch them fight over what actually happened t' me!" Bud shifted, his eyes drifting over to Tolbert for a few seconds. "I mean, what's it matter anyways? He was right. 'M terrible n I'm hard t' handle. I'm a pitiful excuse of a human being, that's what I am."

"Ya are not," Tolbert stated firmly, his knuckles turning white as he tightened his grip on the wheel. "Yer wonderful, Bud McCoy. And ya ain't hard t' handle. Ya don't give me no trouble and I honestly don't see why Poppy was always complainin' 'bout ya. Yer a good kid. Ya got a temper on ya sometimes, but there ain't a thing wrong with that. I can't say anythin' 'cause I've always got a temper on me. Of all the things I inherited from Poppy, I had t' inherit his mean, nasty temper.

"You're a wonderful person, baby. I love you more than anyone else in this world. Ya mean a whole lot t' me and I really don't think that you're a pitiful excuse of a human being. If anybody is, it's Poppy. He _abused you. _He made you think that it's normal for the people ya love t' hit ya an—an' beat ya t' a bloody mess. And I'm so sorry I didn't catch on to it sooner."

"Why d'you lie t' me?" Bud asked shakily. "Why do ya tell me I mean a whole lot t' ya n that ya love me more than anyone when I know for a fact that ya hate me?"

"I don't hate you. Where did you get that idea?"

"I caused it. I caused it this time. The way ya looked at me when I first saw ya told me ya didn't want me there. The conversation made it even more obvious. I'm so sorry. 'M sorry for ev'rythin'."

"Ya didn't cause it. Heck, Bud, I woulda said the same exact thing t' Jim if he'd been the first one t' come in that stupid room. Me n him got into it the night before and... it was kinda bad. But neither one of ya were t' blame for what happened. That's my fault n no one else's."

"I know I had a part in it, I know I did."

"Ya really didn't, baby. I promise you that ya had nothin' t' do with what I did. I'm sorry. I... I knew that ya'd blame yourself n I did it anyway. That was selfish of me."

"No, it wasn't. Ya seem t' forget that I understand exactly how ya felt, Tol. I really wish it woulda worked when I did it."

"Don't say things like that, Bud. I didn't want ya t' die, baby. I still don't want you t' die. I want you t' live your life. I love you so much... Please don't ever do anything like that again."

"'S tempting, but I won't. I won't do anythin' no matter how much I want to."

"Thank ya, baby. And I promised I wouldn't do it again either. I'm sorry I didn't control myself better last time. Usually, all it takes is me thinkin' about you t' snap me outta it. That didn't work this time n I don't know why."

"Because I caused it," Bud answered without hesitation. "Don't even say it ain't true. I know it is. I wouldn't blame ya if ya didn't want me no more. Wouldn't blame ya if ya told me I have t' go live with Mama n Poppy 'gain. I won't say anythin' if ya do. I can make it seem like I chose t' go—"

"Woah, baby, slow down!" Tolbert pulled off of the highway, throwing the truck in park and turning toward Bud. "Slow down. I want you. Yer practically my son, Bud. I will _never _make you go back there, ya understand? I don't even want ya goin' in Kentucky right now, Bud. Why on earth would I send you over there t' live with him when I know what he's done t' you?"

"B'cause 'm terr'ble n d'serve it."

"Ya ain't terrible n ya don't deserve it."

Bud laughed emotionlessly, turning his head toward the window.

"Yeah. 'Cause you totally want someone like me around, Tolbert. Someone who tells ya that they hate ya 'cause they get overwhelmed."

"What happened, huh? Was it just a bad day or what, baby?"

"It — it was fine. I came home n found the Christmas tree."

"What's so bad about that?" Tolbert questioned, obviously confused.

"I didn't think we were doin' Christmas this year. I assumed that with ev'rythin' goin' on, we wouldn't have time for it. S-so it overwhelmed me 'cause my first thought was that I hadn't even bothered t' get anythin' in case we did—"

"Hey, easy. Slow down. Take a breath."

Bud took in a gulp of air.

"I don't have anything, Tol. And — and when ya started teasin' me, I just... I lost it. I'm so sorry. I never meant t' make ya do that," Bud cried, covering his face with his hands to hide his tears.

He heard Tolbert sigh and open his door. He heard it close and for a few seconds, he wondered what Tolbert was up to. He gasped sharply when his door was pulled open, him lifting his head and finding Tolbert.

"C'mere, kiddo," he instructed gently.

Bud unbuckled and slid out of the truck, Tolbert immediately pulling him into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry, Tol," he sniveled, tucking his face in the crook of Tolbert's neck.

"What're you sorry for? Ya've already apologized for what ya said n I've already forgave ya. Ya didn't cause anything. I did it to myself, Bud. There's no one t' blame but me."

Bud clung to his older brother, not wanting to let go. Tolbert didn't say anything; he only rubbed Bud's back, letting him relax in his arms. Bud closed his eyes, relishing in the comfort he felt.

"I love you, baby," Tolbert murmured, kissing his temple.

"I love y' too."

"And hey, don't worry about Christmas, a'ight? I've got everything I could possibly want this year. All I've wanted the last few years was t' know for certain that you're happy, safe, an' healthy. I know it for certain this year an' it makes me very, very happy. But if you're gonna drive yourself crazy over it, just write somethin' for me. 'Cause lemme tell ya somethin', kid, I ain't goin' out. Too many crazy people out this time of year."

Bud giggled and nuzzled against his neck. Tolbert breathed a laugh and kissed his temple again, knowing that it was going to be a long while until they went back to normal.

And really, Tolbert wasn't sure they would ever go back to normal. Bud seemed so relieved that it made Tolbert wonder exactly what the boy had conjured up in his mind the two days he was in the hospital. But he wouldn't ask. He knew better than to ask Bud something like that.

"Ya sure that's all ya want?" Bud asked, wringing his hands together nervously.

"Yeah. Make somethin' up in that head o' yers n put it in writing. That's all I want. Whaddaya say we go get somethin' t' eat 'fore we go home, hm?"

"Sounds good t' me," Bud grinned.

Tolbert smiled as well, watching Bud climb in the truck again before closing the door for him. He saw Bud jolt, as he hadn't been expecting it, causing Tolbert to chuckle under his breath as he rounded the front of the truck.

"That was quite rude, Tolbert."

Tolbert burst into laughter, patting Bud's knee. He had no doubt in his mind that they would be okay.

—

"I don't wanna go t' Anse's!" Bud protested, shaking his head vigorously. "Why can't I stay here wit' you?!"

"'Cause I'm not stayin' here," Tolbert tried to explain. "I've gotta go int' Kentucky for a little while. You've got t' stay with Anse and Ellison 'til I get back."

"No."

"Bud, please, it's Christmas and I don't want t' fight."

"We're supposed t' spend Christmas t'gether! We're _family. _Christmas is s'pposed t' be a day for family. I don't wanna spend it with the Hatfields! They ain't family!"

Tolbert sighed heavily, leaning against the counter. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing for a few seconds before looking up at Bud again.

"I _know _they're not family, Bud," he ground out. "But Jim ain't gonna be home an' I ain't takin' you int' Kentucky."

"I don't wanna stay with them! I wanna spend the day with you, Tolbert! You're all I have now!"

Tolbert stepped forward, grasping Bud's biceps.

"Baby, I promise you, as soon as I finish what I've got t' do, we'll spend the day t'gether. It'll only take me maybe an hour or two. Just hang out with Anse, an—an' Ellison, an' Cap, an' Cotton Top 'til I get back. _Please._"

Bud looked torn. He bit down on his lip before he slowly nodded. He supposed he could agree to it.

—

Tolbert sighed as he shut off the engine to his truck, taking a few seconds to gain control over his anger. He got out and walked up to the front porch, forcing a smile when he saw Roseanna and Alifair.

"And what are both of ya doin' out here?" Tolbert asked teasingly.

"Ain't nothin' t' do yet, Tolbert. Mama ain't gonna start cookin' 'til later."

"Ah. Poppy inside?"

"If he ain't, he's out back with the boys. Why?"

"The only reason I even agreed t' come here was so I could talk to him. I made Jim a promise that I wouldn't come here on my own, but he was dumb enough ta invite me, so..."

"Has he lost his mind?" Alifair remarked.

"I dunno, you tell me. You're here more than I am."

"True. Don't kill him, Tolbert."

"I'm not gonna kill him. I already promised Jim that I wouldn't do anything but say what I wanna say, then leave. I've got a kid t' take care of now, I can't stay too long."

"Then go talk to him. It won't be hard t' find him."

—

Tolbert found Ran'l out back with Jim, Calvin, and Pharmer. He approached them, keeping his face expressionless as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"Hey, Bert," Jim greeted, sending him a pleading look.

"Hey," he muttered.

"Where's Bud?" Pharmer piped up, hope shining in his eyes.

"He ain't with me if that's what yer hopin' for. I ain't bringin' him back when _someone _has threatened t' kill him," he shot Ran'l a cold glare.

"Oh," he mumbled disappointedly.

"Tolbert, don't start with that bull," Ran'l sighed, dragging his hand down his face.

"Oh, yeah, Poppy, it's complete and total bull t' threaten a _child _the way ya've threatened Bud. You're really despicable, ya know that? Ya did just fine with me n Jim. What made Bud any diff'rent?"

"He ain't like the rest of ya. I'm not doin' this t'day, Tolbert."

"Yeah? Well, I've been tryin' for months t' figure out how ya could do somethin' like that to your own son, Poppy, and I haven't been able t' figure it out. How could ya do somethin' like that to an innocent kid?"

"_Tolbert, _drop it."

"Absolutely not. I promised Jim that I wouldn't come here on my own, but I never said anything about the chance of you bein' dumb enough t' invite me here. I'm not gonna lie to ya, Poppy, it's takin' ev'rythin' that I have not t' kill you right now."

Ran'l's eyes scanned Tolbert's frame, him quirking a brow.

"So... what? Ya ain't gonna do nothin'?"

"No. I promised I wouldn't do anything but speak my mind."

"He know yer here? How would he feel if he knew where you were right now, huh?"

Tolbert couldn't stop himself from swinging his fist at Ran'l, causing his head to whip to his left.

"Ya ain't got no dagon right t' question anything after what you did t' him. Ya've never been a father ta him, so what right d' you have t' question anything that I do? I _hate _you, Poppy. And I hope you rot in prison."

—

Bud looked over at Cap, who quirked a brow.

"You just gonna sit there and look miserable all day?" Cap quipped.

"That's not funny," Bud grumbled. "I didn't even wanna come here t'day."

"Then why are ya here?"

"'Cause Tol made me come. He said he has somethin' t' do in Kentucky and he wouldn't let me go. He don't want me goin' t' Kentucky unless I absolutely have to, and... well, I absolutely have to in a few days."

"Ya nervous?"

"A little. I don't entirely like the idea of bein' in the same room as him again, but I know I have to. I mean, I — I trust Anse, I do, but I know how Perry is. If Perry can bribe someone t' win his case, he'll do it. That or he has this way of twistin' your words t' fit what he wants people t' believe. I don't know how he does that."

"I think it's normal t' be scared," Cap murmured, scratching the side of his face. "That's a real touchy subject you're gonna be talkin' about."

"I know," Bud's voice dropped to a low whisper. "That's what scares me. I mean... look at what I did t' Tol when I got overwhelmed last week. I don't know if I can handle it or not."

"You'll be fine. I doubt Daddy's gonna let them do anything t' you."

"It still scares me. It scares me so bad, Cap," he admitted, hanging his head. "Jus' thinkin' 'bout him scares me. I can't find a way t' describe the way I feel when I think about him. All I know is that I shouldn't feel that way when I think about my father."

"I know. I'm sorry. You're a great person, Bud. I can't understand why anyone would intentionally harm you."

"Because I'm a worthless, idiotic moron and a pitiful excuse of a human being? That's my guess."

"Where'd you get an idea like that?"

"Don't worry 'bout it," Bud forced a small smile. "It ain't like it matters what I think of myself. I'm goin' t' court t' — hopefully — get him locked up for a while."

"I hope y'all win. I don't see how ya couldn't, but I really hope that ya do."

"Thanks, I reckon."

Cap nodded silently. Bud watched the road, seeing the red Chevy Colorado and huffing in relief.

"Tolbert back already?" Anse inquired as he stepped onto the porch, pipe in hand.

"Yes, sir," Bud nodded. "He said he wouldn't be long."

Anse hummed. If that was all Tolbert had told Bud, he certainly wasn't going to tell him that Tolbert had gone to speak with Ran'l.

Tolbert parked his truck and left the engine running, getting out and approaching the porch.

"C'mon, kiddo. Let's go home. Thanks for lettin' him stay here, Anse."

"Think nothin' of it. I'll see you boys next week."

—

**_January 2017_**

It was around one a.m. on New Year's Day when Bud heard someone beating on the front door. He got up from his spot on the couch and sighed, shuffling to the door and pulling it open.

"Pharmer?" He blinked.

"H-hey," Pharmer forced a small smile. "'S been a while since I've seen ya."

"Yeah... Uh, come in. Don't stand out in the cold."

Pharmer stepped inside and shivered, watching as Bud closed the door.

"S-so, what're ya doin' here?" Bud inquired.

"I'm tired of the fightin', Bud. All Mama n Poppy have done the last few months is fight n they're drivin' me crazy! Poppy got a little drunk t'night — well, it was more than a little. He got really, _really _drunk, Bud. They went at it again. Mama's mad at him 'cause he promised her he wa'n't doin' anythin' t' you all those years he was beatin' ya. She blames him fer you movin' out n not comin' t' see her none. And Poppy... I swear, his head is as hard as a rock. He won't listen to her when she tries t' tell him exactly why ya won't come 'round none. He really thinks he didn't do nothin' wrong, Bud."

"Yeah, I know that he thinks he's in the right. Mama... Mama wants t' see me?"

"Of course, Mama wants t' see you. You're still her baby boy, Bud."

"An' ya left her there with him drunk? Oh God, Pharmer, I—give me a minute, okay?"

"Okay."

Bud rushed to the living room, where Tolbert was sitting on the couch, looking like he was half-asleep.

"H-hey, I'm gonna go with Pharmer for a while. That okay?"

"Yeah, baby. But if yer goin' where I think yer goin', do not be in a room by yourself. Understood?"

"Yeah. Thank you."

"Yer welcome."

Bud rushed to his room, grabbing his jacket and his phone. He pulled on his sneakers and snatched his key off of the dresser before going back to Pharmer.

"Let's go."

—

Bud followed Pharmer inside the house, flinching when he heard the yelling that was coming from the kitchen.

"See what I mean?" Pharmer asked quietly. "It's like that all the time."

Silence seemed to cover the house, Ran'l stomping out of the kitchen and upstairs without noticing the two boys by the front door.

Bud rushed to the kitchen, finding his mother cupping her cheek, her eyes closed as she leaned against the cabinet. She was wearing one of Bud's old t-shirts and a pair of black leggings, Bud's eyes landing on the bruises that were littered across her face and arms.

"Oh, Mama," he breathed.

Sally's eyes shot open and her hand fell to her side, staring at her youngest son in shock.

"Bud?"

"Mama, oh God," he mumbled, hurrying over to her. "Why didn't you call me, Mama?"

"Ya've been happy, haven't you?"

"For the most part," he nodded slightly. "Had a real rough time in September. Then the week before Christmas, Tol—"

"I know what Tolbert did. Jim told us. Well... it was more like Jim told your father an' your father told me after Jim left. He was lookin' for you."

"I know. Oh my God, Mama, I didn't even think he'd start hittin' you—"

"I'm fine, Bud. I'm glad you're safe."

"Hasn't anybody noticed, Mama? I mean..." Bud trailed off, biting his lip.

"I've started t' wear makeup again. Granted it's just enough t' make my skin look normal, but... I've started wearin' it again."

Bud wrapped his arms around her, laying his head on her shoulder. Sally laughed breathlessly and wrapped her arms around him, kissing the top of his head.

"I missed you, baby," she murmured tearfully, running her hand through his thick locks of hair.

"I missed y' too, Mama," he mumbled. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Bud lifted his head and kissed her cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Sally smiled softly, watching him as his eyes flitted down to her shirt. She saw the corner of his lip turn upward and she inhaled deeply, knowing he was going to make a remark about it.

"So, ya like my shirt, Mama?" he asked casually.

"I do. It's comfortable."

"And way too big. It looks like a dress on you."

"And you can tower over me, what's your point?" Sally retorted.

Bud laughed and pecked her cheek again. He'd missed the playful arguments that he had with Sally. Every time the two of them got in an argument, it was never anything but playful. Bud got along just fine with his mother, had never disrespected her, or given her any trouble. The first time he'd made a witty remark that way aimed at her, he'd caught her off guard, but now it was a normal thing for them.

"Oh God, son," Sally breathed, cupping his face with her hands. "I love ya. I'm glad ya got outta here. If ya'd told me what was goin' on, I woulda got ya outta here a lot sooner."

"I have no doubt of that. But if you'd gotten me out sooner, he woulda started hittin' you a lot sooner," Bud countered softly.

"Maybe so, but I woulda known my baby was safe. That's like right now, I don't mind takin' it. _You _are what's important t' me. I know he thinks he's gonna win this, that he thinks him an' Perry Cline can win this case with ease, but I know that he's not. I want ya t' be able t' come here whenever ya want to."

"Well, I mean... I can do that now. Tol don't care as much now that we're gettin' ready t' go t' court."

"I'm glad he let ya come over. Feels like it's been forever since I seen ya, baby."

"I know. I'm sorry. I've wanted t' come see ya, but Tol wouldn't let me int' Kentucky. I've missed ya an awful lot, Mama."

"I can't say I blame him for keepin' ya in West Virginia. You're safer there."

"For now. After the trial... if we win... I think I'll come home for a little while. Well, I don't — I don't really know if this is home now. I love in West Virginia with Tolbert."

"This will _always _be your home. You'll always have a home here, Buddy."

"Thanks, Ma," he chuckled lightly. "Can I...?" He gestured to her reddened cheek.

"Yeah," she nodded slightly.

Bud turned her head, observing her discolored skin and gently rubbing his thumb along her jaw, just to ensure that Ran'l hadn't hit her hard enough to fracture or break the bone.

"It should be fine. Just a bruise," he forced a tight smile.

Sally smiled softly and kissed her son's cheek.

"Thank ya, baby."

"Yer welcome, Mama. I know how bad it hurts when Poppy does that. I know how it feels when somethin's fractured or broken. I don't want that t' happen t' you."

"And it won't, baby. I promise."

—

"Hey, honey, you ready t' go?" Tolbert asked as he rounded the corner and entered Bud's room, finding his baby brother sitting on his bed, dressed in black slacks and a wife-beater, his head in his hands. His red button-up was lying on the bed beside him, and his nicest pair of black dress shoes were on the floor, the laces untied. "Buddy?"

Bud lifted his head, revealing his flushed face and his tears.

"I don't wanna go."

"I know, baby. But ya've got to."

"He—he's gonna k-kill m-m-me!" Bud exclaimed, a sob tearing from his throat.

"No, he's not. We are goin' t' court, he can't lay a hand on you there. That would get him arrested immediately and win the case for us. It'll be fine, ya don't have t' get on the stand t'day. I think it's Jim t'day."

"I'm really scared."

"I know you are, darlin'. It's okay t' be scared. Ya have every right t' be petrified of him. And I can't say I would blame ya for it, Buddy. But we're gonna go in that courtroom, we're gonna show 'em who Randolph McCoy really is, an' we're gonna get 'im locked up for a long time."

"Y' sure?" he sniffled.

"Yeah, baby. I'm sure," Tolbert smiled softly, brushing Bud's bangs out of his eyes. "Get your shirt and shoes on, baby. We gotta go."

—

Arriving at the courthouse, Bud's heart rate accelerated. He licked his lips and unbuckled his seatbelt, glancing uneasily at Tolbert before he slid out of the truck.

"Relax, baby," Tolbert murmured, slinging an arm around Bud's shoulders. "You're okay. Nothin's gonna happen to you. Ya got Ellison, Cap, Anse, 'Lias, Wall, an' Jim here from the Hatfield side of the river, and ya've got all yer brothers here from this side of the river. We ain't gonna let nothin' happen t' you."

"But what if he does somethin'?" Bud looked over at Tolbert. "I mean... 'm wearin' contacts n he can do serious damage if he breaks one while I'm wearin' it."

"I know. But he's not gonna get close enough ta even touch ya. I promise that much, Randolph McCoy, Junior."

Bud swallowed the lump in his throat and clenched his hands by his sides, trying to quell his anxiety. He hated that he was terrified of his own father — the one person Bud was supposed to be able to look up to.

But he had Jim and Tolbert, and they'd taught him everything that he needed to know. He could always go to them if he had a question, and they almost always had the answer to his question.

"Ya wanna stand here a second? Take a breath?" Tolbert asked as they stepped inside the lobby.

"Please," Bud whispered.

"A'ight. C'mere, Ellison's right over here. We can stand over there, okay?"

Bud nodded mutely, trying to ignore how it felt like his heart was going to burst through his skin.

They made their way over to Ellison, who glanced up from his phone and smiled when he saw the two boys.

"Mornin', boys," he greeted cheerfully.

"Mornin'," Bud murmured before turning and letting his eyes flick around the room. "Oh my God."

Ran'l stood off at a fair distance, talking with Perry. Bud's heart stopped in his chest when his father's eyes met his, causing Bud to rip his gaze away and stare at the floor.

Tolbert glanced up and saw him. He exhaled deeply and shot him a cold glare, causing Ran'l to roll his eyes and turn around again.

"Anse is already in the courtroom if you boys wanna go in there. He's practically the only one in there, 'cept for your mother, sisters n brothers. They're all on your side, ya know that?"

Bud nodded swiftly, not trusting his voice.

"Cap's in there, too. So's Wall," Ellison added, knowing that Bud was close to Cap and Wall.

Bud slowly lifted his gaze, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. He glanced over at Tolbert, then glanced back at Ellison.

"Ya wanna go?" Tolbert asked softly. Bud nodded slightly in response. "C'mon then, baby."

Tolbert led him to the courtroom, finding that Ellison had been right. Bud swiftly walked to where Sally was, wrapping his arms tightly around her and kissing her cheek.

"You a'ight? He ain't...?"

"Once or twice. But you were right the last time ya saw me, baby. It's a nasty bruise."

Bud's throat constricted. His eyes flicked to his left and caught sight of Pharmer with a black eye, turning toward him and letting out a breath.

"Pharmer... what happened t' you?"

"He found out I brought ya back. He also found out that I made sure he wouldn't know that you were there. I didn't duck fast enough. I've been sayin' that Cal got tired of me runnin' my mouth n finally slugged me."

"And you're goin' along with that?" Bud turned toward Calvin, his hazel eyes ablaze with fury.

"He asked me to. It's not for Poppy, I guarantee that. People were askin' questions and I wasn't gonna make it worse on Pharmer by tellin' the truth," Calvin responded swiftly. "Ya know better than anyone else what would happen if he did that."

Bud hung his head. He wished he didn't know what would happen if Pharmer had told the truth.

"It's not a big deal, Buddy. He hit me one time and that was it."

"He hit you because he didn't get the chance t' hit me," Bud stated, his eyes snapping up and meeting Pharmer's. "That's why he hit you."

"Maybe so, but I don't really care. What matters t' me is that you're safe and you are. You're livin' with Tolbert an' you're safer that way."

"I leave n he starts hittin' all of ya. Makes me feel terr'ble. When I was there, it was just me."

"He woulda killed you if you'd stayed there any longer," Calvin pointed out, wrapping an arm around his baby brother. "Ya know that as well as I do."

"Maybe not. He had the chance to n he didn't."

"Yeah, an' when ya left outta there with Tolbert, he wa'n't done with you. He'd just stopped long enough t' keep ev'ryone from bein' suspicious."

"Maybe. Don't matter none anyway. We took it t' court n now we're here. Let's hope it goes the way we want it to."

—

Bud nervously watched as Anse stood and called his first witness to the stand. Anse moved to the front of the table that he and Bud were sitting at and leaned against it. Bud had no doubt that they'd purposely placed Tolbert at the top of the list, as Tolbert was hot-headed and Perry knew exactly how to get Tolbert to lose his temper.

"For the record, please state your name."

"Tolbert McCoy."

"And how do you know my client, Mr. McCoy?"

"He's my little brother."

"And the defendant?"

"...He's our father," he answered hesitantly.

"Let's see... it was in June of 2016 that your brother spoke to you, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Tolbert replied, his voice raspy.

"And what did he tell you?"

"That Poppy beat him. I — I can't remember it word for word what he said. All I know is that Poppy threatened t' kill him n said that nobody'd ever find his body if he told anybody. Bud told me anyways and I made the promise that I wouldn't force him t' press charges if he didn't want to. I let him make his own decision with it."

"So he came to you and told you?"

"Yes. He came t' my old house here in Pike County and used his key t' get in. He yelled for me, I answered, he came back to my room and he was covered in bruises. He told me everything and showed me the gashes that were on his back from Poppy's belt. We were in my room when he told me everything that happened."

"Did you suspect something before he told you?"

"Yeah," Tolbert nodded. "I'd suspected somethin' for a long time."

"Why didn't you say anything? Or ask him about it?"

"Because Bud's like me. If he don't wanna talk about somethin', he won't. Askin' about it makes it worse 'cause he'll clam up n he won't say a word t' anyone about it, even if it gets t' the point that it could kill him."

"Oh."

Tolbert's eyes flicked over and met Bud's finding that Bud had his eyes focused on him. _He was scared. _Tolbert could plainly see the fear in Bud's eyes. He wouldn't look anywhere but directly at Tolbert.

"Has your younger brother ever lied to you, Mr. McCoy?"

"No, sir."

"He's always been honest with you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you see the bruises, scratches, and cuts for yourself?"

"Yes, sir, I did."

"No further questions."

Anse returned to the table and sat down, Bud's eyes flicking over to him.

"Perry?" Bud whispered as the judge spoke up and said something.

"Yeah, it's his turn now," Anse responded quietly. "Relax. Tolbert knows how t' keep his cool."

"He won't be able to if Perry gets under his skin. And Perry knows exactly how t' do that," Bud countered.

"How's that?"

"All he's gotta do is make it out like I'm lyin' 'bout ev'rythin' an' Tol's gonna lose his temper."

"Now, Tolbert — may I call you Tolbert?" Perry began, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve.

"Sure," Tolbert shrugged nonchalantly.

"You said that your brother has never lied to you?"

"Yes."

"But isn't it possible that he has? Can you prove that it's Randall McCoy that hit him? Or did he have one of your other brothers do it to him just so he could frame Randall?"

"Objection! That's speculation," Anse exclaimed, startling Bud.

"Sustained. Either reword the question or move on, Mr. Cline," Judge Wagner drawled.

"My apologies, Your Honor." He paused before focusing on Tolbert again. "Tolbert, isn't it possible that your brother lied to you?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"Well, for one thing, he couldn't lie if his life depended on it," Tolbert answered honestly, earning a quiet snort from Anse and Jim. "For another, he ain't dumb enough t' lie t' me. I know Bud McCoy better than anyone else does. I know when he's lying and when he's not. The only lie he's told me since he told me about all this is that he's fine when I know darn good n well that he ain't."

"But it _is _possible, isn't it?" Perry pressed.

"It's not possible," Tolbert stated bluntly. "His stories are too consistent to be lies. Poppy pretty much confessed it to me. I know for a fact he did when he was talkin' t' Jim."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"Tell me somethin', Tolbert. Did you try t' commit suicide not too long ago?"

Tolbert's heart skipped a beat. He glanced at Anse, then at Judge Wagner.

"Do I have t' answer that?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"Objection. That isn't pertinent to the case," Anse spoke up, his voice calm, though his ice-blue eyes were filled with fury.

"Sustained. Move on, Mr. Cline."

"What happened to Bud in September? Under Ellison Hatfield's care?"

"What?" Tolbert pulled a face. He wasn't referring to Bud's suicide attempt, was he?

"In September, your brother tried to kill himself, did he not?"

"I'm not gonna answer that."

"Ah, but you have to. You swore you'd tell the—"

"I'm not gonna be used t' humiliate him. Ya have no idea what that boy has gone through, so don't ya even stand there n act like ya do. Anybody who defends a child abuser is just as bad as they are. You really believe all those lies he tells, don't ya? That Bud was bein' disciplined or whatever. What he did t' Bud was _not _discipline, Perry Cline. It was abuse. Do you need me t' spell that out for you? _Abuse. A-b-u-s-e. _I'm not gonna sit here n let ya humiliate him through me with your stupid questions. I know how you are, Perry. Ya've bragged to me for years on how ya win your dagon cases."

Bud released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Tolbert's eyes met his, Bud letting out a breathless laugh of relief. He should have known that Tolbert would use his head when he was on the stand. (Bud wouldn't have been surprised if Tolbert had that planned all along. He'd never thought highly of Perry and had been waiting for the opportunity to say so.)

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I'm not fallin' for your dirty little trick," Tolbert responded as though it was obvious. "I'm not gonna humiliate him to the point that he drops the charges. What I am gonna do, however, is make sure that he's safe from the likes of you n Poppy."

Perry gaped at him for a few seconds, shaking his head before seeming to snap out of the shock that he'd gone into.

"Tolbert, all you have t' do is answer the question."

"And I already told you I'm not gonna answer that."

"You're under oath."

"And nothin' said I have t' discuss somethin' that happened to my brother that happened _after _charges were pressed. I know what you're doin', Perry. I'm not gonna be a pawn in your little game t' win the case."

"So you admit something happened, then?"

"Of course, something happened. If your father treated you the way ours treated Bud, you'd do somethin' too."

"But _what _happened, Tolbert?"

"I don't really see where that's any of your dagon business. Oh, and by the way — the hospital did call me a couple weeks ago. You can't access his medical records without his consent, Perry. You should know that, bein' a lawyer n all."

Perry's eyes widened.

"No further questions."

—

Bud had changed the instant he got home. After changing into a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, he shuffled to the living room, where Tolbert was sitting, dressed in a white t-shirt and a black pair of sweats.

"Hey, baby," Tolbert greeted as he entered the room. "Whatcha doin'?"

"I think you set Perry Cline on fire t'day, Tolbert," Bud snorted as he sat down beside him.

"And I've been waiting t' do that for a long time."

"I know. It was hilarious. Thanks for not... discussing that, I guess. But now he's gonna ask me about it, so..."

"So you say you don't wanna answer that. Or you answer it n tell nothin' but the truth about the whole thing. We're gonna win this. We've got too good of a case t' lose."

"I'm still sorry for that, by the way," Bud murmured. "And I'm still sorry for what happened in December."

"Hey, what happened in December had nothing t' do with you. I know it's hard for ya, baby. I know you're still learnin' how t' control it. You were pretty much forced t' grow up when you were eight, honey. Ya don't know how t' control your emotions just yet n that's alright. I don't expect ya t' be perfect, baby. My main concern is that you're happy n healthy. I try t' help ya as much as I can, but there's not much I can do with this. Ya just gotta learn it yourself, and I know that you will. It takes time."

"I feel so stupid when I get like that," he huffed. "Makes me think he was right in callin' me childish."

"He wasn't. He was a terrible excuse of a father t' you, Bud. I'm pretty sure me n Jim have practically been the only ones you've had and that's alright. We'll always be here for ya. And once all this is over, once we win the case, I think there's another person that ya should spend more time with."

"Who?"

"Mama."

Bud smiled softly and leaned his head against Tolbert's shoulder.

"Yeah... I miss Mama. I miss Mama a whole lot."

"I know ya do. And as soon as it's safe for you t' go over there, I'll let ya."

"Nothin' happened last time," he grumbled.

"We got lucky last time. I don't want ya gettin' hurt."

"I know, but I really don't think anythin' would happen. I'm there t' see Mama n Pharmer n Calvin. Not him. I don't see how it's fair that I don't get t' see my family because of him."

"Yeah, I know," Tolbert sighed. "But it's just a precaution, baby."

"That don't make it better."

"I know. Just... trust me, okay?"

"Okay."

—

The day before Bud was set to testify in court, he and Tolbert had gotten into an argument. Bud had been on edge all day and there was just something about Tolbert constantly repeating that they were going to win the case that grated on his nerves.

"Would you stop?" Bud exploded, his eyes flitting up and meeting Tolbert's for a split second. "There are other things t' talk about, ya know. We don't constantly have t' talk about the stupid case."

"Well, I'm sorry, Bud. I didn't know it bothered ya so bad t' talk about somethin' _you started,_" Tolbert lashed out.

"We don't always have t' talk about it! I'm so sick of talkin' about it. There are a million other things we could talk about, but you always wanna talk about the stupid case!"

"Yeah, okay," Tolbert scoffed. "And you're always a joy t' be around."

Bud flinched at the stinging sensation that appeared in his chest.

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled.

"Ya know that yer a burden? Or that yer startin' t' be one? My God, Bud, it's _ev'ry night _you're in my dagon room now! I didn't mind it so much when it was ev'ry now n then, but you're bein' ridiculous with it now. You're not some baby that needs t' be coddled."

"I don't — that's not why—never mind," he stammered, lowering his head. "I won't do it no more, I promise."

"Good. It's about time ya start actin' your age, Bud. Ya ain't a little baby no more."

"I don't—"

"Don't you even say that ya don't act like a baby," Tolbert snapped. "You do. Ya do it ev'ry day an' it's so _annoying. _Grow up, would ya?"

"'M tryin', Tolbert. 'M tryin' real hard. I just... don't think I'm doin' it right."

"Not doin' it right? How can you not do it right?!" Tolbert exclaimed, causing Bud to flinch away from him. "Ev'rything is that way with you, isn't it? That's your go-to excuse. Even when ya tried t' kill yourself, ya said ya didn't do it right. Well, clearly ya did somethin' right with that 'cause you almost _died, _Bud!"

"Wish I woulda," he sniffled, folding his arms tightly over his chest. "I really wish I woulda."

"Don't start that again. Don't you start that again when I know darn good n well that ya don't wish it."

"You don't know that! You don't know how I feel, Tolbert!" Bud raised his voice, lifting his head.

"I don't know that? Ya enjoy life an awful lot for someone who wishes they were dead," Tolbert retaliated.

"Yer despicable. I hate you."

"Yeah, well, I hate you too, so that don't really bother me. If this is the way ya acted at home, no wonder Poppy hates you as much as he does."

Bud's breath hitched. He clenched his jaw before leaving the room, going to his own room and slamming the door shut behind him.

—

Bud didn't sleep that night. He'd stayed up thinking about everything that Tolbert had said, and he'd managed to convince himself that everything that he'd said was true.

At six a.m., Bud grabbed a denim button-up and a pair of dark jeans before heading to the bathroom. He took a quick shower and dressed, leaving the bathroom and shuffling back to his room, finding Tolbert.

"God, don't _scare me _like that!" Tolbert exclaimed, causing him to flinch and take a step back. "I thought you'd run off like ya did when Jim was here!"

"N-no, I was — I was jus' in the shower," he spoke softly, lowering his head. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean t' scare ya."

"It's — it's alright. Ya just scared me real good."

Bud felt a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. Why should he care if he scared Tolbert? Tolbert didn't love him, he'd made that clear the night before. Tolbert only cared because he felt like he had to take care of Bud.

It made Bud wonder how long it would be before Tolbert started hitting him, too, seeing as he'd said he understood why Ran'l hated him. And if he understood that, surely he felt the same way.

"I'm gonna go get ready now. Please don't do anything like that again, Bud."

"I won't, Tolbert."

—

Bud hadn't said a word when he sat down beside Anse that morning. He'd kept to himself, stayed silent, and held a forlorn expression on his face.

"Hey, Buddy... you okay?" Anse questioned, keeping his voice low. Bud silently nodded. "Ya sure, honey?"

"'M fine, Anse. Jus' didn't sleep too well 's all."

"You up t' this t'day?"

"Yeah."

"Ya sure?"

"Positive. I'd rather get it over with."

"A'ight, Bud," Anse sighed. "It's your time t' shine t'day."

—

"For the record, please state your name."

"Randolph McCoy, Junior. Ev'ryone calls me Bud."

"Ya care if I call ya Bud?"

"No."

"How old are you, Bud?"

"Fifteen."

"How old were you when the abuse started?"

"Seven."

Bud lowered his head and picked at his nails, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, only to have another form in the same spot.

"Can ya tell us about that?" Anse queried, eyeing Bud warily.

"It was before Tolbert moved out. He went somewhere with Jim an' Poppy hit me. He told me if I told Tolbert or Jim about it — well, anyone, really — that I'd regret it. I never told anyone."

"Did they not notice something was off when they came back?"

"They just thought I'd got in trouble for somethin'."

"When did Tolbert move out?"

"June of 2009. Like... a week after his birthday, I think."

"That's when it started to become more frequent?"

"Yes."

Bud lifted his gaze, finding Tolbert gazing at him. He lowered it again, trying to force back unwanted emotions.

"Can you tell me some of the things he did?"

"Beat me; used his belt and made nasty gashes on my back; choked me; threw me n I hit the coffee table. That knocked me out. Uhm... he's slapped me before. He's threatened me a lot, too."

"Threatened ya? How?"

"Told me he'd kill me if I ever told anybody 'bout it," he mumbled. "Also told me that he'd make my life miserable if I ever left the house. There's a lot I honestly don't remember word for word."

"Has he ever carried out one of his threats?"

"I... don't think so?" he answered uncertainly. "Like I said, there's been a lot that I can't really remember. He keeps his word when he says he's gonna beat me, though. That much I can say for certain."

"Ya went back home before ya pressed charges, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what happened?"

"He caught me in the living room by myself n beat me. I was layin' there on the floor when Pharmer came in n found me. He took me upstairs to my room and called Tolbert for me. Tolbert came n picked me up. That was that."

Anse hummed.

"Why did he call Tolbert?"

"Because Tolbert knew what was goin' on."

"Why did you go back?"

"T' see Mama n my brothers. I promised Tol that he wouldn't catch me by myself and... well, it didn't go as planned."

"Was that what made you decide to press the charges?"

"Sort of. It's more I got tired of feelin' like I couldn't go see my mother and brothers because of my abusive father."

"When was the last time he beat you?"

"When Tolbert picked me up. That was... July of last year."

"Did Tolbert tend to your wounds, or did someone else?"

"Tolbert did."

"He's the one that took those photographs, right?"

Bud turned his head toward the left, finding that the photos had been printed out and placed on a white poster board.

"Yeah."

"Did Ran'l McCoy do that t' you?"

"Yes, sir."

"No further questions."

"Cross-examine, Mr. Cline?" Judge Wagner asked.

"Yes, Your Honor."

Bud took a deep breath as Perry stood up, closing his eyes while he tried to calm his racing heart. He didn't like sitting there so everyone could see what a mess his life really was, but he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

He had no doubt that Tolbert was hoping they would win so he could send him back into Kentucky. The thought made Bud's heart sink. Tolbert wanted to get rid of him. That's why he wanted to win the case so badly.

"Bud," Perry snapped his fingers in front of his face, causing Bud to gasp sharply and jerk his head back.

"I—I'm sorry," Bud stammered. "Sorry, so sorry. W-what?"

"I asked you a question."

"O-oh. I'm sorry, I reckon I zoned out for a second. Can ya — can ya repeat that?"

Bud could _feel _Tolbert's gaze on him. His eyes flicked up and met Tolbert's, seeing that he was staring at him, concern being the most prominent emotion that he was expressing.

"You said the abuse started when you were seven. Wouldn't somebody have noticed the bruises?" Perry inquired.

"No. It was like... under my shirt. Where no one would see it."

"But it did get worse over the years, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"More visible?"

"Yes, sir."

"How did you keep people from knowing what was true?"

"Told 'em I'd been wrestlin' my brothers when it started," Bud shrugged. "People will believe anything you tell them. But I started wearing makeup. I taught myself how t' do it and I covered it with makeup."

"You say that people believe anything you tell them. What kind of things do they believe?"

"Like Ran'l McCoy is a good father. He ain't a good father, but I don't guess it matters much."

"Can you prove he's abused you? Are there any bruises on you currently from him?"

"No. Well, I mean, I've got those," he pointed to the photos. "But I ain't been there in a while. Not alone, at least. He always does it when I'm alone."

"When was the last time you visited them?"

"New Year's Day. I wanted t' see Mama, so I went with Pharmer n stayed with him n Mama the whole time. I wasn't there long."

"Weren't you scared?"

"I was scared he mighta done somethin' t' Mama. I don't really care what happens t' me."

Perry pulled an odd face.

"Then why are we here?"

"Ya get tired of it after a while, Perry. Maybe I just didn't want t' die when I told them what was goin' on."

"Bud... You ever been suicidal?"

"Yes. And before you even ask, _yes, _I attempted it in September. It didn't work."

"Why did ya attempt it?" Perry pressed.

"Thought I could fix the mess I made," Bud shrugged nonchalantly. "Tolbert never hated Poppy before I told him what was goin' on. Jim n Poppy always got along fine 'fore he found out about it. Now, ev'rybody's always fightin' n I hate it. I hate that they're always fightin' 'cause of somethin' I started."

"Somethin' you started? What, so it was like discipline when he hit you?"

"No."

"But you said—"

"I meant that ev'ryone got along a lot better when I kept my dagon mouth shut," Bud snapped harshly. "Now all anybody does is fight in this dagon fam'ly. They got along when they didn't do anything but suspect somethin' was goin' on."

"Bud, are you _sure _that what your father did to you is what would be considered abuse?"

"I'm sure."

"That's not what he says, Bud."

"Well, I don't know about you, Perry, but I don't know anybody who would admit that they abuse somebody," Bud retaliated, earning a shocked look from Perry.

Bud looked up when he heard Tolbert laugh softly, finding his older brother shaking his head fondly. His eyes met Bud's and he gave him a slight nod, showing that he approved of that comment.

"You've been spendin' too much time with Tolbert," Perry grumbled.

"And what's wrong with Tolbert? He's a better man than you'll ever be. At least he don't bribe people t' get what he wants. And he don't try t' do illegal things t' win a case neither. But I guess I'm glad ya care so much about me that ya try t' access my medical records. Not that they're any of your business, or his for that matter," Bud pointed to Ran'l. "Don't forget that you've done nothin' but brag every time you win a case — even if it's unfairly. I honestly don't know how you're still a lawyer.

"For another thing, Perry Cline, I don't need your opinion on Tolbert. And I don't need your opinion on my life either. Ev'rybody that knows me knows I can't lie t' save my life, so trust me when I tell ya somethin'. _Randall McCoy abused me. _I'm so sick an' tired of ev'ryone actin' like he's the greatest man in the world when I had t' deal with him beatin' me ev'ry dagon night like I'm some kind of punching bag. And I hate him for it.

"I've — I've never said that, but I _hate _him. And I want to be better than he is. I wanna be like Tolbert and Jim — they're the only ones I've had for years and—and I know I can always count on them, even when they're mad at me. They don't care about that 'cause they love me n know that I need them. He doesn't love anybody but himself. And it honestly didn't surprise me when I heard you'd be defending him, Perry. You're just like him."

Perry stood there, flabbergasted.

Bud looked over at Tolbert again, finding him leaned back with his arms folded, beaming with pride. Jim was fighting back a laugh, as was Calvin, Pharmer, and Jim Vance, and Anse looked a mix between amused and proud.

"Are we done with the humiliation routine?" Bud quipped, snapping Perry out of his shock.

Perry cleared his throat before saying, "No further questions, Your Honor."

"You can step down, Bud," Judge Wagner chuckled. "We'll have a one-hour recess. Court dismissed."

—

Tolbert threw an arm around Bud's shoulders when he stepped out of the courtroom, laughing joyfully.

"Boy, you really twisted it on him, didn't ya?" Tolbert chuckled.

"Reckon so," Bud tried to force a laugh.

Tolbert's smile fell as he gazed at his little brother.

"Come on, let's go get some lunch. We got an hour."

Bud nodded, following Tolbert out of the courthouse and to his truck. They climbed in it, Tolbert starting the engine.

"Baby... I'm sorry for what I said last night. I didn't mean a word of it. I was stressed and I couldn't stop myself from gettin' mad, darlin'. I didn't mean a word I said, honest I didn't. My God, honey, I don't mind ya comin' in my room at night. Makes me feel better if I'm honest with ya. Not only do I get t' talk to ya, but I'm sure you're safe when you come in there n sleep. Ya don't act like a baby and I don't hate you. I don't know what's wrong with me, sayin' things like that. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I didn't do no better, callin' you despicable n all. I'm really sorry."

"After what I said t' you, ya had ev'ry right t' say it, baby. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Tol. I shouldn't've stayed up all night thinkin' about it. That was my mistake, not yours."

"_You stayed up all night?_"

"Yeah," he nodded. "But I'm okay. A little tired, maybe, but I'm fine."

"I'm gonna trust you on that. Where do ya wanna go for lunch?"

"I don't care," Bud sighed. "Wherever's fine with me."

"Alright. Let's see..."

—

Bud grunted and apologized after bumping into someone in the lobby, not bothering to look up before darting inside the courtroom. He walked up to his seat, sitting down and forcing a small smile.

"Hey, kiddo. That was quite the testimony ya gave there," Anse teased lightheartedly, ruffling Bud's hair.

"Yeah, well, he wants to insult Tolbert, I'll insult him."

"You seem t' be in a better mood. Feel better?"

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I feel a lot better now. Reckon I was just worked up."

"Over what?" Anse queried.

"Me n Tol got into it last night. I stayed up all night thinkin' on ev'rythin' he said and... well, I let it get to me. We're good now, though. He didn't mean any of it. We were both stressed and we just got mad easy. That's all."

"Mmm. You seem a little... jumpy t'day. Did you take your medicine?"

"Uhm... I kinda forgot?" he answered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was distracted this mornin' n forgot all about it, Anse. Tolbert already knows. He's made it clear that I'll be taking it when I get home."

"Good. It won't take long. All we gotta do is find out what the judge thinks n then we're free t' go."

"Think we'll win?" Bud turned toward Anse.

"I think we will, yeah. We had too much evidence. Perry Cline's little stunt didn't help him any either."

Bud laughed at that. Maybe his life would finally take a turn for the better.

—

"Would the defendant please rise?"

Bud held his breath and bit down anxiously on his lip, his eyes focused on Judge Wagner.

"I find the defendant guilty as charged, and hereby sentence you to the maximum sentence."

Bud released a relieved breath, slumping forward slightly, and laughing breathlessly as tears rushed to his eyes.

"Court's dismissed."

"Ya did good, kid," Anse smiled, patting Bud's shoulder. "Ya did real good. And now ya ain't got nothin' t' worry about when ya go t' Kentucky."

Bud stood and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you," he muffled into his shoulder. "Thank you so much, Anse."

"Don't mention it, kiddo. Ya've grown on me, as much as I hate to admit it. I think Ellison an' Cap will kill ya if ya stop comin' around now. And if they don't do it, I will."

Bud burst into a fit of giggles. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shot Anse a skeptical look.

"Sure ya will. See ya later?"

"Yeah, kid. I'll see ya later. Now get outta here n go have fun." Anse smacked the side of his head.

"Alright! Geez, ya ain't gotta hit me," Bud grumbled.

"That didn't hurt you," Anse scoffed.

"No. But you still hit me," Bud responded cheekily.

"You better get outta here or I'll do it again."

"Yes, sir."

—

"Yeah, Mama," Tolbert sighed, closing the door to his room. "I know. I'll — I'll see when he wants t' come over."

"You better," Sally remarked. "I miss him."

"I know ya do. I'll talk to him when he gets home. He went out with Ellison... I think they went bowling or somethin'."

"Ya let him go without even knowin' where he went?"

"Ellison told me n I've been kinda busy thinkin', so I forgot. Don't worry, Ellison won't let nothin' happen to him."

"Alright. I love you."

"I love you too."

Tolbert hung up, swallowing thickly as he moved to his nightstand, plugging his phone up and placing it on it.

He hesitated after standing upright. What was he going to do when Bud told him he wanted to move back to Kentucky? He'd never admit it aloud, but he'd gotten to where he depended on Bud. He was used to Bud always being there and he didn't want to find out how silent it could be without Bud.

(If it was anything like it was now — a silence that enveloped the house — Tolbert didn't want to live that way.)

"_Tolbert! _Tolbert, where are ya?!"

"Back here!" he shouted.

He heard Bud's footsteps in the hall and glanced at the door when it opened, revealing his disheveled brother.

"I slipped on the way up the road. Don't say anything."

"What're ya doin' walkin' up the road?" Tolbert queried.

"I wanted to," Bud shrugged innocently. "Elli tried t' talk me out of it. But apparently, I'm as stubborn as you."

"Mm. Quit sayin' that like it's a good thing, darlin'. It ain't a good thing at all."

"Sure it is. I don't see what's so bad about bein' like you."

"I'm glad ya don't. But at the same time, I'm not glad about it. That doesn't make any sense at all, I know, just go with it."

"Okay. What's got ya actin' s' strange?"

"When're ya gonna go t' Mama's? And when are ya gonna move back?" Tolbert asked swiftly, deciding it was best to do it that way.

"I dunno. I didn't even know I was moving back," Bud replied softly, sounding a little hurt. "I thought — I thought ya didn't care if I kept on livin' here. But I can go back—"

"You _want _t' stay here with me?" Tolbert whipped around.

"Yeah," Bud nodded slowly. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I dunno. I just figured you'd wanna move back t' Kentucky."

"No, I'm happy here. I wanna stay here. I mean, all I want is t' be able t' go t' Kentucky when I want to. I don't wanna move back. I wanna stay right here, in West Virginia, with you."

"Okay, baby," Tolbert rasped. "Ya can keep on livin' here if ya wanna."

Bud hugged Tolbert tightly.

"I love you, Tol."

"I love you too, Buddy."

—

**_May 2017_**

Bud yawned as he turned to where he could lay his head in Tolbert's lap, staring up at the ceiling.

"And what are you a-doin'?" Tolbert questioned, carding his fingers through Bud's hair.

"'M sleepy," he mumbled, closing his eyes. "Tell me one of yer ghost stories, will ya?"

"So you can have nightmares?"

"That don't give me nightmares," Bud disputed. "I wish my nightmares were about ghosts. It'd make it a lot easier t' calm down when I wake up from 'em, that's fer sure."

"Oh... oh, baby," Tolbert murmured sympathetically. "It's been a while since ya've had one, though."

"Yeah. 'Bout time for it t' happen again."

"Don't say that."

"'S true," Bud shrugged. "So... are ya gonna tell me a story or not?"

"Yeah, baby. I'll tell ya a story."


End file.
